PR 



THE 
FOUNDATIONS 



JOHN GALSWORTHY 




Pass 1 ' /a c ■ 
Book. ■f\5F^ 
CopigktN" 



CSraRiGUT DGPOSnS 



BY THE SAME AUTHOR 

VILLA EUBEIN, and Other Stories 

THE ISLAND PHARISEES 

THE MAN OF PROPERTY 

THE COUNTRT HOUSE 

FRATERNITY 

THE PATRICIAN 

THE DARK FLOWER 

THE FREELANDS 

BEYOND 

FIVE TALES 

saint's PROGRESS 

TATTERDEMALION 



A COMMENTARY 

A MOTLEY 

THE INN OP TRANQUILLITY 

THE LITTLE MAN, and Other Satires 

A SHEAF 

ANOTHER SHEAF 

ADDRESSES IN AMERICA! 1919 



plays: FIRST SERIES 

and Separately 
THE SILVER BOX 
JOY 
STRIFE 

plays: SECOND SERIES 

and Separately 
THE ELDEST SON 
THE LITTLE DREAM 
JUSTICE 

plays: THIRD SERIES 

and Separately 
THE FUGITIVE 
THE PIGEON 
THE MOB 

plats: fourth series 

and Separatehf 
A BIT O^ LOVE 
THE FOUNDATIONS 
THE SKm GAME 



MOODS, SONGS, AND DOGGERELS 
MEMORIES. Illustrated. 



THE FOUNDATIONS 



THE FOUNDATIONS 

(AN EXTRAVAGANT PLAY) 

BY 

JOHN GALSWORTHY 



NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCREBNER'S SONS 

1920 



-v^^'"^'. 



Copyright, 1920, by 
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 



m\ 29 i9M 




©CI.D 54 4 26 



CAST OF THE ORIGINAL PRODUCTION 



Royalty TheatrCy June, 1917 



Lord William Dromondt, M.P. 

PouLDER {his butler) 

James (first footman) 

Henry (second footman) 

Thomas (third footman) 

Charles (fourth footman) 

The Press . 

Lemmy (a plumber) 

Lady William Dromondy 

Miss Stokes 

Old Mrs. Lemmy 

Little Anne 

Little Aida 



Mr. Dawson Milward 
Mr. Sidney Paxton 
Mr. Stephen T. Ewart 
Mr. Allan Jeayes 
Mr. William Lawrence 
Mr. Robert Lawlor 
Mr. Lawrence Hanray 
Mr. Dennis Eadie 
Miss Lydia Bilbrooke 
Miss Gertrude SterroU 
Miss Esme Hubbard 
Miss Babs Farren 
Miss Dinka Starace 



PERSONS OF THE PLAY 

Lord William Dromondy, M.P. 

Lady William Dromondy 

Little Anne 

Miss Stokes 

Mr. Poulder 

James 

Henry 

Thomas 

Charles 

The Press 

Lemmy 

Old Mrs. Lemmy 

Little Aida 

The Duke of Exeter 

Some Anti-Sweaters; Some Sweated Workers; and 
Crowd 



SCENES 

SCENE I. The cellar at Lord William Dromondt's in Park 
Lane. 

SCENE II. The room of old Mrs. Lemmy in Bethnal Green. 

SCENE III. Ante-room of the hall at Lord William Dro- 
mondt's. 

The Action passes continuously between 8 and 10.30 of a 
summer evening, some years after the Great War. 



ACT I 

Lord William Dromondy's mansion in Park Lane. 
Eight o'clock of the evening. Little Anne 
Dromondy and the large footman^ James, gaunt 
and grimy discovered in the wine cellar, by light 
of gas. James, in plush breeches, is selecting wine. 

L. Anne. James, are you really James? 

James. No, my proper name's John. 

L. Anne. Oh! [A pau^e] And is Charles's an im- 
proper name too ? 

James. His proper name's Mark. 

L. Anne. Then is Thomas Matthew? 

James. Miss Anne, stand clear o' that bin. You'll 
put your foot through one o' those 'ock bottles. 

L. Anne. No, but James — Henry might be Luke, 
really ? 

James. Now shut it. Miss Anne ! 

L. Anne. Who gave you those names? Not your 
godfathers and godmothers? 

James. Poulder. Butlers think they're the Al- 
mighty. [Gloomily] But his name's Bartholomew. 

L. Anne. Bartholomew Poulder? It's rather jolly. 

James. It's hidjeous. 

L. Anne. Which do you like to be called— John or 
James ? 

Copyright, 1920, by Charles Scribner'a Sont 
1 



2 THE FOUNDATIONS act i 

James. I don't give a darn. 

L. Anne. What is a darn? 

James. 'Tain't in the dictionary. 

L. Anne. Do you like my name.'* Anne Dro- 
mondy Y It's old, you know. But it's funny, isn't it ? 

James. [Indifferently] It'll pass. 

L. Anne. How many bottles have you got to pick 
out.'* 

James. Thirty-four. 

L. Anne. Are they all for the dinner, or for the 
people who come in to the Anti-Sweating Meeting 
afterwards ? 

James. All for the dinner. They give the Sweated 
— tea. 

L. Anne. All for the dinner? They'll drink too 
much, won't they ? 

James. We've got to be on the safe side. 

L. Anne. Will it be safer if they drink too much? 

James jpaiises in the ad of dusting a bottle to 

hole at her, as if suspecting irony, 

{Sniffing] Isn't the smell delicious here — like the taste 

of cherries when they've gone bad — [She sniffs again] 

and mushrooms; and boot blacking 

James. That's the escape of gas. 

L. Anne. Has the plumber's man been ? 

James. Yes. 

L. Anne. Which one? 

James. Little blighter I've never seen before. 

L. Anne. What is a little blighter ? Can Z see ? 

James. He's just gone. 



ACT I THE FOUNDATIONS 3 

L. x\nne. [Straying] Oh! . . . James, are these 
really the foundations ? 

James. You might 'arf say so. There's a lot under 
a woppin' big house like this; you can't hardly get to 
the bottom of it. 

L. Anne. Everything's built on something, isn't it.'* 
And what's that built on.? 

James. Ask another. 

L. Anne. If you wanted to blow it up, though, 
you'd have to begin from here, wouldn't you? 

James. Who'd want to blow it up ? 

L. Anne. It would make a mess in Park Lane. 

James. I've seen a lot bigger messes than this'd 
make, out in the war. 

L. Anne. Oh! but that's years ago! Was it like 
this in the trenches, James ? 

James. [Grimly] Ah! 'Cept that you couldn't lay 
your 'and on a bottle o' port when you wanted one. 

L. Anne. Do you, when you want it, here.? 

James. [On guard] I only suggest it's possible, 

L. Anne. Perhaps Poulder does. 

James. [Icily] I say nothin' about that. 

L. Anne. Oh ! Do say something ! 

James. I'm ashamed of you. Miss Anne, pumpin' me ! 

L. Anne. [Reproachfully] I'm not pumpin' ! I only 
want to make Poulder jump when I ask him. 

James. [Grinning] Try it on your own responsibility, 
then; don't bring me in ! 

L. Anne. [Switching off] James, do you think there's 
going to be a bloody revolution ? 



4 THE FOUNDATIONS act i 

James. [Shocked] I shouldn't use that word, at your 
age. 

L. Anne. Why not.'* Daddy used it this mornmg 
to Mother. [Imitating] "The country's in an awful 
state, darling; there's going to be a bloody revolution, 
and we shall all be blown sky-high." Do you like 
Daddy.? 

James. [Taken aback] Like Lord William.? What 
do you think? We chaps would ha' done anything 
for him out there in the war. 

L. Anne. He never says that — he always says he'd 
have done anything for you ! 

James. Well — that's the same thmg. 

L. Anne. It isn't — it's the opposite. What is class 
hatred, James? 

James. [Wisely] Ah ! A lot o' people thought when 
the war was over there'd be no more o' that.' [He snig- 
gers] Used to amuse me to read in the papers about 
the wonderful unity that was comin'. I could ha' 
told 'em different. 

L. Anne. Why should people hate? / like every- 
body. 

James. You know such a lot o' people, don't you? 

L. Anne. Well, Daddy likes everybody, and Mother 
likes everybody, except the people who don't like 
Daddy. I bar Miss Stokes, of course; but then, who 
wouldn't ? 

James. [With a touch of philosophy] That's right — 
we all bars them that tries to get something out of us. 

L. Anne. Who do you bar, James ? 



ACT I THE FOUNDATIONS 5 

James. Well — [Enjoying the luxury of thought]— 
Speaking generally, I bar everybody that looks dowa 
their noses at me. Out there in the trenches, there'd 
come a shell, and orf'd go some orficer's head, an' I'd 
think: That might ha' been me — we're all equal in the 
sight o' the stars. But when I got home again among 
the torfs, I says to meself: Out there, ye know, you 
filled a hole as well as me; but here you've put it on 
again, with mufti. 

L. Anne. James, are your breeches made of mufti ? 

James. [Contemplating his legs with a certain con- 
tempt] Ah ! Footmen were to ha' been off; but Lord 
William was scared we wouldn't get jobs in the rush. 
We're on his conscience, and it's on my conscience 
that I've been on his long enough — so, now I've saved 
a bit, I'm goin' to take meself orf it. 

L. Anne. Oh ! Are you going ? Where ? 

James. [Assembling the last bottles] Out o' Blighty! 

L. Anne. Is a little blighter a little Englishman ? 

James. [Embarrassed] Well — 'e can be. 

L. Anne. [Mming] James — we're quite safe down 
here, aren't we, in a revolution.'' pnly, we wouldn't 
have fun. Which would you rather — be safe, or have 
fun? 

James. [Grimly] Well, I had my bit o' fun in the war. 

L. Anne. / like fun that happens when you're not 
looking. 

James. Do you ? You'd ha' been just suited. 

L. Anne. James, is there a future life ? Miss Stokes 
says so. 



6 THE FOUNDATIONS act i 

James. It's a belief, iii the middle classes. 

L. Anne. What are the middle classes ? 

James. Anything from two 'undred a year to super- 
tax. 

L. Anne. Mother says they*re terrible. Is Miss 
Stokes middle class ^ 

James. Yes. 

L. Anne. Then I expect they are terrible. She's 
awfully virtuous, though, isn't she Y 

James. 'Tisn't so much the bein' virtuous, as the 
lookin' it, that's awful. 

L. Anne. Are all the middle classes virtuous? Is 
Poulder .^ 

James. [Dubiously] Well. . . . Ask him! 

L. Anne. Yes, I will. Look! 

From an empty bin on the ground level she 
picks up a lighted taper, burnt almost to 
the end. 

James. [Contemplating it] Careless ! 

L. Anne. Oh ! And look ! [She points to a rounded 
metal object lying in the bin, close to where the taper 
was] It's a bomb ! 

She is about to pick it up when James takes 
her by the waist and puts her aside. 

James. [Sternly] You stand back there! I don't 
like the look o* that ! 

L. Anne. [With intense interest] Is it really a bomb .'* 
What fun ! 

James. Go and fetch Poulder while I keep an eye 
on it. 



ACT I 



THE FOUNDATIONS 



L. Anne. [On tiptoe of excitement] If only I can 
make him jump! Oh, James! we needn't put the 
light out, need we ? 

James. No. Clear off and get him, and don't you 
come back. 

L. Anne. Oh! but I must! I found it! 
James. Cut along. 
L. Anne. Shall we bring a bucket? 
James. Yes. [AmJE flies off. 

[Gazing at the object] Near go! Thought I'd seen 
enough o' them to last my time. That little gas 
blighter ! He looked a rum 'un, too — one o' these 'ere 
Bolshies. 

In the presence of this grim object the habits 

of the past are too much for him. He sits on 

the ground, leaning against one of the bottle 

baskets, keeping his eyes on the homhy his 

large, lean, gorgeous body spread, one elbow 

on his plush knee. Taking out an empty 

pipe, he places it mechanically, bowl down, 

between his lips. There enter, behind him, 

as from a communication trench, Poulder, 

in swallow-tails, with Little Anne behind 

him. 

L. Anne. [Peering round him — ecstatic] Hurrah! 

Not gone off yet! It can't — can it — while James is 

sitting on it? 

Poulder. [Very broad and stout, with square shoul- 
ders, a large ruddy face, and a small mouth] No noise. 
Miss. James ! 



8 THE FOUNDATIONS act i 

James. Hallo! 

PouLDER. What's all this? 

James. Bomb! 

PouLDER. Miss Anne, off you go, and don't you 

L. Anne. Come back again ! I know ! [She flies. 

James. [Extending his hand with the pipe in it] See ! 

PouLDER. [Severely] You've been at it again ! Look 
here, you're not in the trenches now. Get up ! What 
are your breeches goin' to be like ? You might break 
a bottle any moment ! 

James. [Rising with a jerk to a sort of ''Attention!''] 
Look here, you starched antiquity, you and I and that 
bomb are here in the sight of the stars. If you don't 
look out I'll stamp on it and blow us all to glory ! 
Drop your civilian swank ! 

PouLDER. [Seeing red] Ho! Because you had the 
privilege of fightin' for your country, you still think 
you can put it on, do you.? Take up your wine! 
Ton my word, you fellers have got no nerve left ! 

James makes a sudden swoop, lifts the bomb 
and poises it in both hands. Poulder 
recoils against a bin and ga7.es at the object. 

James. Put up your hands ! 

Poulder. I defy you to make me ridiculous. 

James. [Fiercely] Up with 'em ! 

Poulder's hands go up in an uncontrollable 
spasm, which he subdues almost instantlyy 
pulling them down again. 

James. Very good. [He lowers the bomb. 

Poulder. [Surprised] I never lifted 'em. 

James. You'd have made a first-class Boche, 



ACT I THE FOUNDATIONS 9 

Poulder. Take the bomb yourself; you're in charge 
of this section. 

Poulder. [Pouting] It's no part of my duty to 
carry menial objects; if you're afraid of it I'll send 
'Enry. 

James. Afraid ! You 'Op o' me thumb ! 

From the ** communication trench*' appears 
Little Anne, followed hy a thin, sharp, 
sallow-faced man of thirt2j-five or so, and 
another Footman, carrying a wine-cooler. 

L. Anne. I've brought the bucket, and the Press. 

Press. [In front of Poulder's round eyes and mouth] 
Ah, major domo, I was just taking the names of the 
Anti-Sweatmg dmner. [He catches sight of the bomb 
in James's hand] By George! What A.l. irony! [He 
brings out a note-book and writes] "Highest class dining 
to relieve distress of lowest class — bombed by same ! " 
Tipping ! [He rubs his hands]. 

Poulder. [Drawing himself up] Sir.? This is pres- 
ent ! [He indicates Anne with the flat of his hand.] 

L. Anne. I found the bomb. 

Press. [Absorbed] By Jove! This is a piece of 
luck ! [Ee writes. 

Poulder. [Observing him] This won't do — it won't 
do at all ! 

Press. [Writing—absorbed] "Beginning of the Brit- 
ish Revolution!" 

Poulder. [To James] Put it in the cooler. 'Enry, 
'old up the cooler. Gently! Miss Anne, get be'ind 
the Press. 

James. [Grimly— holding the bomb above the cooler] It 



10 THE FOUNDATIONS act i 

won't be the Press that'll stop Miss Anne gom' to 
'Eaven if one o' this sort goes ofif. Look out! I'm 
goin' to drop it. 

All recoil. Henry puts the cooler down and 
hacks away. 

L. Anne. [Dancing forward] Oh! Let me see! I 
missed all the war, you know ! 

James lowers the bomb into the cooler. 

PouLDER. [Regaining courage — to The Press, who 
is scribbling in his note-book] If you mention this before 
the police lay their hands on it, it'll be contempt o' 
Court. 

Press. [Struck] I say, major domo, don't call in 
the police! That's the last resort. Let me do the 
Sherlocking for you. Who's been down here ? 

L. Anne. The plumber's man about the gas — a 
little blighter we'd never seen before. 

James. Lives close by, in Royal Court Mews — No. 3. 
I had a word with him before he came down. Lemmy 
his name is. 

Press. "Lemmy!" [Noting the address] Right-o! 

L. Anne. Oh ! Do let me come with you ! 

PoTJLDER. [Barring the way] I've got to lay it all 
before Lord William. 

Press. Ah ! What's he like ? 

PouLDER. [With dignity] A gentleman, su*. 

Press. Then he won't want the police in. 

PouLDER. Nor the Press, if I may go so far as to 
say so. 

Press. One to you! But I defy you to keep this 



ACT I THE FOUNDATIONS 11 

from the Press, major domo. This is the most sig- 
nificant thmg that has happened in our time. Guy 
Fawkes is nothing to it. The foundations of Society 
reeling! By George, it's a second Bethlehem! 

[He writes. 

PouLDER. [To James] Take up your wine and follow 
me. 'Enry, bring the cooler. Miss Anne, precede us. 
[To The Press] You defy me? Very well; I'm goin' 
to lock you up here. 

Press. [Uneasy] I say— this is medieval. 

[He attempts to pass. 

PouLDER. [Barring the way] Not so! James, put 
hun up in that empty 'ock bin. We can't have dinner 
disturbed in any way. 

James. [Putting his Jiands on The Press's shoulders] 
Look here— go quiet ! I've had a grudge against you 
yellow newspaper boys ever since the war — frothin' 
up your daily hate, an' makin' the Huns desperate. 
You nearly took my life five hundred times out there. 
If you squeal, I'm goin' to take yours once — and that'll 
be enough. 

Press. That's awfully unjust. I'm not yellow ! 

James. Well, you look it. Hup. 

Press. Little Lady Anne, haven't you any authority 
with these fellows ? 

L. Anne. [Resisting Poulder's pressure] I won't 
go ! I simply must see James put him up ! 

Press. Now, I warn you all plainly— there'll be a 
leader on this. 

[He tries to bolt, but is seized by James. 



1^ THE FOUNDATIONS act i 

James. [Ironically] Ho! 

Press. My paper has the biggest mfluence 

James. That's the one! Git up in that 'ock bin, 
and mind your feet among the claret. 
Press. This is an outrage on the Press. 
James. Then it'll wipe out one by the Press on the 
Public — an' leave just a million over ! Hup ! 
PouLDER. 'Enry, give 'im an 'and. 

The Press mounts^ assisted by James and 
Henry. 
L. Anne. [Ecstatic] It's lovely ! 
PouLDER. [Nervovdy] Mind the '87 ! Mind ! 
James. Mind your feet in Mr. Poulder's favourite 
wine ! 

A Woman's voice is heard, as from the depths 
of a cave, calling "Anne ! Anne /" 
L. Anne. [Aghast] Miss Stokes — I must hide ! 

She gets behind Poulder. The three Servants 
achieve dignified 'positions in front of the 
bins. The voice comes nearer. The Press 
sits dangling his feet, grinning. Miss 
Stokes appears. She is a woman of forty- 
Jive and terribly good manners. Her greyish 
hair is rolled bach off her forehead. She is 
in a high evening dress, and in the dim light 
radiates a startled composure. 
Miss S. Poulder, where is Miss Anne ? 

[Anne lays hold of the backs of his legs. 
Poulder. [Wincing] I am not in a position to in- 
form you, Miss. 



ACT I THE FOUNDATIONS 13 

Miss S. They told me she was down here. And 
what is all this about a bomb ? 

PouLDER. [Lifting his hand in a calming manner] 
The crisis is past; we have it in ice, Miss. 'Enry, show 
Miss Stokes ! [Henry indicates the cooler. 

Miss S. Good gracious ! Does Lord William know ? 

PouLDER. Not at present, Miss. 

Miss S. But he ought to, at once. 

PouLDER. We 'aVe 'ad complications. 

Miss S. [Catching sight of the legs of The Press] 
Dear me! What are those? 

James. [Gloomily] The complications. 

Miss Stokes puts up her glasses and stares 
at them. 

Press. [Cheerfully] Miss Stokes, would you kindly 
tell Lord William I'm here from the Press, and would 
like to speak to him ? 

Miss S. But — er — why are you up there ? 

James. 'E got up out o' remorse. Miss. 

Miss S. What do you mean, James.'' 

Press. [Warmly] Miss Stokes, I appeal to you. Is 
it fair to attribute responsibility to an unsigned jour- 
nalist for what he has to say.? 

James. [Sepulchrally] Yes, when you've got 'im in 
a nice dark place. 

Miss S. James, be more respectful! We owe the 
Press a very great debt. 

James. I'm goin' to pay it. Miss. 

Miss S. [At a loss] Poulder, this is really most 

PouLDER. I'm bound to keep the Press out of temp- 



14 THE FOUNDATIONS act i 

tatlon. Miss, till I've laid it all before Lord William. 
'Enry, take up the cooler. James, watch 'im till we 
get clear, then bring on the rest of the wine and lock 
up. Now, Miss. 

Miss S. But where is Anne ? 

Press. Miss Stokes, as a lady ! 

Miss S. I shall go and fetch Lord William ! 

PouLDER. We will all go. Miss. 

L. Anne. [Rushing out from behind his legs] No — me ! 

She eludes Miss Stokes and vanishes, followed 

by that distracted but still well-mannered lady. 

Poulder. [Looking at his watch] 'Enry, leave the 
cooler, and take up the wine; tell Thomas to lay it 
out; get the champagne into ice, and 'ave Charles 
'andy in the 'all in case some literary bounder comes 
punctual. [Henry takes up the wine and goes. 

Press. [Above his head] I say, let me down. This 
is a bit undignified, you know. My paper's a great 
organ. 

Poulder. [After a moment's hesitation] Well — take 
'im down, James; he'll do some mischief among the 
bottles. 

James. 'Op off your base, and trust to me. 

The Press slides off the bin's edge, is received 
by James, and not landed gently. 

Poulder. [Contemplating him] The incident's closed; 
no ill-feeling, I hope ? 

Press. No-o. 

Poulder. That's right. [Clearing his throat] While 
we're waitin' for Lord William — if you're interested in 



ACT I THE FOUNDATIONS 15 

wine — [PhilosophicaUi/] you can read the history of the 
times in this cellar. Take 'ock. [He points to a bin] 
Not a bottle gone. German product, of course. Now, 
that 'ock is 'avin' the time of its life — maturin' grandly; 
got a wonderful chance. About the time we're bringin* 
ourselves to drink it, we shall be havin* the next great 
war. With luck that 'ock may lie there another quar- 
ter of a century, and a sweet pretty wine it'll be. I 
only hope I may be here to drink it. Ah ! [He shakes 
his head] — but look at claret ! Times are hard on claret. 
We're givin' it an awful doin*. Now, there's a Ponty 
Canny [He points to a bin] — if we weren't so 'opelessly 
allied with France, that wine would have a reasonable 
future. As it is — none ! We drink it up and up; not 
more than sixty dozen left. And where's its equal to 
come from for a dinner wine — ah! I ask you? On 
the other hand, port is steady; made in a little country, 
all but the cobwebs and the old boot flavour; guaran- 
teed by the British Navy; we may *ope for the best 
with port. Do you drink it ? 

Press. When I get the chance. 

PouLDER. Ah ! [Clears his throat] I've often wanted 
to ask: What do they pay you — if it's not indelicate? 
[The Press shrugs his shoulders. 
Can you do it at the money ? 

[The Press shakes his head. 
Still — it's an easy life ! I've regretted sometimes that 
I didn't have a shot at it myself; influencin' other 
people without disclosin' your identity — something 
very attractive about that. [Lowering his voice] Be- 



16 THE FOUNDATIONS act i 

tween man and man, now — what do you think of the 
situation of the country — these processions of the un- 
employed — the Red Flag an' the Marsillaisy in the 
streets — all this talk about an upheaval ? 

Press. Well, speaking as a Socialist 

PouLDER. \/istounded\ Why, I thought your paper 
was Tory ! 
Press. So it is. That's nothing ! 
PouLDER. [Open-mouthed] Dear me ! [Pointing to the 
bomb] So you really think there's something in this .'* 
James. [Sepulchrally] 'Igh explosive. 
Press. [Taking out his note-book] Too much, any- 
way, to let it drop. 

[A pleasant voice calls "Poulder I Hallo /" 
PouLDER. [Forming a trumpet with his hand] Me 
Lord! 

As Lord William appears, James, overcome 

by reminiscences, salutes, and is mechanically 

answered. Lord William has "charm." 

His hair and moustache are crisp and ju^t 

beginning to grizzle. His bearing is free, 

easy, and only faintly armoured. He will 

go far to meet you any day. He is in full 

evening dress. 

Lord W. [Cheerfully] I say, Poulder, what have you 

and James been doing to the Press ? Liberty of the 

Press — it isn't what it was, but there is a limit. Where 

is he? 

He turns to James between whom and himself 
there is still the freemasonry of the trenches. 



ACT I THE FOUNDATIONS 17 

James. [Pointing to Poulder] Be'ind the parapet, 
me Lord. 

The Press moves out from where he has in- 
voluntarily been screened by Poulder, who 
looks at James severely. Lord William 
hides a smile. 
Press. Very glad to meet you, Lord William. My 
presence down here is quite involuntary. 

Lord W. [With a charming smile] I know. The 
Press has to put its — er — to go to the bottom of every- 
thing. Where's this bomb, Poulder.^ Ah! 

[He looks into the wine cooler. 
Press. [Taking out his note-book] Could I have a 
word with you on the crisis, before dinner. Lord 
WUliam? 

Lord W. It's time you and James were up, Poulder. 
[Indicating the cooler] Look after this; tell Lady William 
I'll be there in a minute. 
Poulder. Very good, me Lord. 

He goes, followed by James carrying the cooler. 

As The Press turns to look after them. Lord 

William catches sight of his back. 

Lord W. I must apologise, sir. Can I brush you ? 

Press. [Dusting himself] Thanks; it's only behind. 

[He opens his note-book] Now, Lord William, if you'd 

kindly outline your views on the national situation; 

after such a narrow escape from death, I feel they 

might have a moral effect. My paper, as you know, 

is concerned with the deeper aspect of things. By the 

way, what do you value your house and collection at ? 



18 THE FOUNDATIONS act i 

Lord W. [Twisting his little moustache] Really — I 
can't ! Really ! 

Press. Might I say a quarter of a million — lifted in 
two seconds and a half — hundred thousand to the 
second. It brings it home, you know. 

Lord W. No, no; dash it! No! 

Press. [Disappointed] I see — not draw attention to 
your property in the present excited state of public 
feeling ? Well, suppose we approach it from the view- 
point of the Anti-Sweating dinner. I have the list of 
guests — very weighty ! 

Lord W. Taken some lifting — wouldn't they? 

Press. [Seriously] May I say that you designed the 
dinner to soften the tension, at this crisis? You saw 
that case, I suppose, this morning, of the woman dying 
of starvation in Bethnal Green? 

Lord W. [Desperately] Yes — yes! I've been horri- 
bly affected. I always knew this slump would come 
after the war, sooner or later. 

Press. [Writing] "... had predicted slump." 

Lord W. You see, I've been an Anti-Sweating man 
for years, and I thought if only we could come together 
now. . . . 

Press. [Nodding] I see — I see! Get Society inter- 
ested in the Sweated, through the dinner. I have the 
menu here. [He produces it. 

Lord W. Good God, man — more than that! I 
want to show the people that we stand side by side 
with them, as we did in the trenches. The whole 
thing's too jolly awful. I lie awake over it. 

[He walks up and down. 



ACT I THE FOUNDATIONS 19 

Press. [Scribbling] One moment, please. I'll just 
get that down— "Too jolly awful— lies awake over it. 
Was wearing a white waistcoat with pearl buttons.'* 
[At a sign of resentment from his victim] I want the 
human touch, Lord William— it's everything in my 
paper. What do you say about this attempt to bomb 
you? 

Lord W. Well, in a way I thmk it's d— d natural. 
Press. [Scribbling] "Lord William thought it d— d 
natural." 

Lord W. [Overhearing] No, no; don't put that 
down. What I mean is, I should like to get hold of 
those fellows that are smging the Marseillaise about 
the streets— fellows that have been in the war— real 
sports they are, you know— thorough good chaps at 
bottom— and say to them: "Have a feeling heart, 
boys; put yourself in my position." I don't believe 
a bit they'd want to bomb me then. 

[He walks up and down. 
Press. [Scribbling and muttering] "The idea of 

brotherhood " D'you mmd my saying that.? 

Word brotherhood— always effective — always 

[He writes. 
Lord W. [Bewildered] "Brotherhood!" Well, it's 
pure accident that I'm here and they're there. All 
the same, I can't pretend to be starving. Can't go 
out mto Hyde Park and stand on a tub, can I.'^ But 
if I could only show them what I feel— they're such 
good chaps — poor devils. 

Press. I quite appreciate! [He writes] "Camel and 
needle's eye." You were at Eton and Oxford ? Your 



20 THE FOUNDATIONS act i 

constituency I know. Clubs ? But I can get all that. 
Is it your view that Christianity is on the up-grade. 
Lord William.'^ 

Lord W. [Dubious] What d'you mean by Christi- 
anity — loving-kindness and that.?^ Of course I think 
that dogma's got the knock. [He walks. 

Press. [Writing] "Lord William thought dogma 
had got the knock." I should like you just to develop 
your definition of Christianity. "Loving-kindness" — 
strikes rather a new note. 

Lord W. New? What about the Sermon on the 
Mount ? 

Press. [Writing] "Refers to Sermon on Mount." I 
take it you don't belong to any Church, Lord William ? 

Lord W. [Exasperated] Well, really — I've been bap- 
tised and that sort of thing. But look here 

Press. Oh! you can trust me — I shan't say any- 
thing that you'll regret. Now, do you consider that 
a religious revival would help to quiet the country ? 

Lord W. Well, I think it would be a deuced good 
thing if everybody were a bit more kind. 

Press. Ah! [Musing] I feel that your views are 
strikingly original. Lord William. If you could just 
open out on them a little more ? How far would you 
apply kmdness in practice ? 

Lord W. Can you apply it in theory? 

Press. I believe it is done. But would you allow 
yourself to be blown up with impunity.'* 

Lord W. Well, that's a bit extreme. But I quite 
sjTnpathise with this chap. Imagine yourself in his 
shoes. He sees a huge house, all these bottles, us swill- 



ACT I THE FOUNDATIONS 21 

ing them down; perhaps he's got a starvmg wife, or 
consumptive kids. 

Press. [Writing and murmuring] Um-m! "Kids." 

Lord W. He thinks; "But for the grace of God, 
there swill I. Why should that blighter have every- 
thing and I nothing?" and all that. 

Press. [Writing] "And all that." [Eagerly] Yes.? 

Lord W. And gradually— you see — this contrast — 
becomes an obsession with him. "There's got to be 
an example made," he thmks; and — er — he makes it, 
don't you know? 

Press. [Writing] Ye-es? And— when you're the 
example ? 

Lord W. Well, you feel a bit blue, of course. But 
my point is that you quite see it. 

Press. From the other world. Do you believe in 
a future life. Lord William? The public took a lot 
of interest in the question, if you remember, at the 
time of the war. It might revive at any moment, if 
there's to be a revolution. 

Lord W. The wish is always father to the thought, 
isn't it? 

Press. Yes! But — er — doesn't the question of a 
future life rather bear on your point about kmdness ? 
If there isn't one — why be kmd ? 

Lord W. Well, I should say one oughtn't to be 
kind for any motive — that's self-mterest; but just 
because one feels it, don't you know. 

Press. [Writing vigorously] That's very new — very 
new! 

Lord W. [Simply] You chaps are wonderful. 



I THE FOUNDATIONS act i 

Press. [Doubtfully] You mean we're — we're 



Lord W. No, really. You have such a d — d hard 
time. It must be perfectly beastly to interview fel- 
lows like me. 

Press. Oh ! Not at all, Lord William. Not at all. 
I assure you compared with a literary man, it's — it's 
almost heavenly. 

Lord W. You must have a wonderful knowledge of 
things. 

Press. [Bridling a little] Well — ^I shouldn't say that. 

Lord W. I don't see how you can avoid it. You 
turn your hands to everything. 

Press. [Modestly] Well — yes, yes. 

Lord W. I say: Is there really going to be a revolu- 
tion, or are you making it up, you Press? 

Press. We don't know. We never know whether 
we come before the event, or it comes before us. 

Lord W. That's very deep — very deep. D'you 

mind lending me your note-book a moment. I'd like 

to stick that down. All right, I'll use the other end. 

[The Press hands it hypnotically. 

Lord W. [Jotting] Thanks awfully. Now what's 
your real opinion of the situation.?* 

Press. As a man or a Press man ? 

Lord W. Is there any difference ? 

Press. Is there any connection ? 

Lord W. Well, as a man. 

Press. As a man, I think it's rotten. 

Lord W. [Jotting] "Rotten." And as a pressman ? 
[Smiling] Prime. 



ACT I THE FOUNDATIONS 23 

Lord W. What! Like a Stilton cheese. Ha, ha! 

[He is about to write. 

Press. My stunt, Lord William. You said that. 

[He jots it on his cuff. 

Lord W. But look here! Would you say that a 
strong press movement would help to quiet the country ? 

Press. Well, as you ask me. Lord William, I'll tell 
you. No newspapers for a month would do the trick. 

Lord W. [Jotting] By Jove ! That's brilliant. 

Press. Yes, but I should starve. [He suddenly looks 
up, and his eyeSy like gimlets, bore their way into Lord 
William's pleasant, troubled face] Lord William, you 
could do me a real kindness. Authorise me to go and 
interview the fellow who left the bomb here; I've got 
his address. I promise you to do it most discreetly. 
Fact is — well — I'm in low water. Since the war we 
simply can't get sensation enough for the new taste. 
Now, if I could have an article headed; "Bombed and 
Bomber" — sort of double interview, you know, it'd 
very likely set me on my legs agam. [Very earnestly] 
Look ! [He holds out his frayed wristbands. 

Lord W. [Grasping his hand] My dear chap, cer- 
tainly. Go and interview this blighter, and then 
bring him round here. You can do that for me. I'd 
very much like to see him, as a matter of fact. 

Press. Thanks awfully; I shall never forget it. Oh! 
might I have my note-book? 

[Lord William hands it back. 

Lord W. And look here, if there's anything — when 

a fellow's fortunate and another's not 

[He puts his hand into his breast pocket. 



24 THE FOUNDATIONS act i 

Press. Oh, thank you! But you see, I shall have 
to write you up a bit, Lord William. The old aris- 
tocracy — you know what the public still expects; if 

you were to lend me money, you might feel 

Lord W. By Jove ! Never should have dreamt 

Press. No ! But it wouldn't do. Have you a pho- 
tograph of yourself. 
Lord W. Not on me. 

Press. Pity ! By the way, has it occurred to you 
that there may be another bomb on the premises ? 
Lord W. Phew ! I'll have a look. 

He looks at his watchy and begins hurriedly 
searching the bins, bending down and going 
on his knees. The Press reverses the note- 
book again and sketches him. 
Press. [To himself] Ah! That'll do. "Lord Wil- 
liam examines the foundations of his house." 

A voice calls ''Bill!" The Press snaps the 

note-book to, and looks up. There, where the 

''communication trench'* runs in, stands a 

tall and elegant woman in the extreme of 

evening dress. 

[With presence of mind] Lady William? You'll find 

Lord William — Oh! Have you a photograph of him? 

Lady W. Not on me. 

Press. [Eyeing Iter] Er — no — I suppose not — no. 
Excuse me ! [He sidles pa^t her and is gone. 

Lady W. [With lifted eyebrows] Bill ! 
Lord W. [ETnerging, ducting his knees] Hallo, Nell ! 
I was just making sure there wasn't another bomb. 



ACT I THE FOUNDATIONS 25 

Lady W. Yes; that's why I came down. Who was 
that person ? 

Lord W. Press. 

Lady W. He looked awfully yellow. I hope you 
haven't been giving yourself away. 

Lord W. [Dubiously] Well, I don't know. They're 
like corkscrews. 

Lady W. What did he ask you.^ 

Lord W. What didn't he? 

Lady W. Well, what did you tell him.? 

Lord W. That I'd been baptised — but he promised 
not to put it down. 

Lady W. Bill, you are absurd. 

[She gives a light little laugh. 

Lord W. I don't remember anything else, except 
that it was quite natural we should be bombed, don't 
you know. 

Lady W. Why, what harm have we done? 

Lord W. Been born, my dear. [Suddenly serious] 
I say, Nell, how am I to tell what this fellow felt when 
he left that bomb here? 

Lady W. Why do you want to? 

Lord W. Out there one used to know what one's 
men felt. 

Lady W. [Staring] My dear boy, I really don't 
think you ought to see the Press; it always upsets you. 

Lord W. Well ! Why should you and I be gomg 
to eat ourselves silly to improve the condition of the 
sweated, when 

Lady W. [Calmly] When they're going to "im- 



THE FOUNDATIONS 



ACT I 



prove" ours, if we don't look out. We've got to get 
in first, Bill. 

Lord W. [Gloomily] I know. It's all fear. That's 
it ! Here we are, and here we shall stay — as if there'd 
never been a w^ar. 

Lady W. Well, thank heaven there's no "front" to 
a revolution. You and I can go to glory together this 
time. Compact ! Anything that's on, I'm to share in. 

Lord W. Well, in reason. 

Lady W. No, in rhyme, too. 

Lord W. I say, your dress ! 

Lady W. Yes, Poulder tried to stop me, but I 
wasn't going to have you blown up without me. 

Lord W. You duck. You do look stunning. Give 
us a kiss ! 

Lady W. [Starting back] Oh, Bill ! Don't touch me 
— your hands ! 

Lord W. Never mind, my mouth's clean. 

They stand about a yard apart, and bending 
their faces towards each other y kiss on the lips. 

L. Anne. [Appearing suddenly from the ''communi- 
cation trenchy'* and tip4oeing silently between them] Oh, 
Mum ! You and Daddy are wasting time ! Dinner's 
ready, you know ! 

CURTAIN 



ACT II 

The single room of old Mrs. Lemmy, in a small grey 
house in Bethnal Greeny the room oj one cumbered 
by little save age, and the crockery debris of the past. 
A bed, a cupboard, a coloured portrait of Queen 
Victoria, and — of all things —a fiddle, hanging on 
the wall. By the side of old Mrs. Lemmy in her 
chair is a pile of corduroy troupers, her day's sweated 
sewing, and a small table. She sits with her back 
to the window, through which, in the last of the light, 
the opposite side of the little grey street is visible 
under tJie evening sky, where hangs one white cloud 
shaped like a Iiorned beast. She is still sewing, and 
her lips move. Being old, and lonely, she has that 
habit of talking to herself, distressing to those who 
cannot overhear. From the smack of her tongue 
she was once a West Country cottage woman; from 
the look of her creased, parchmenty face, she was 
once a pretty girl with black eyes, in which there is 
still much vitality. The door is opened with diffi- 
culty and a little girl enters, carrying a pile of un- 
finished corduroy troupers nearly as large as herself. 
She puts them down against the wall, and advances. 
She is eleven or twelve years old ; large-eyed, dark- 
haired, and sallow. Half a woman of this and 
27 



28 THE FOUNDATIONS act ii 

half of another world, except when as now, she is as 
irresponsible a bit of life as a little flowering weed 
growing out of a wall. She stands looking at Mrs. 
Lemmy with dancing eyes. 

L. Aid A. I've brought yer to-morrer's trahsers. 
Y'nt yer finished wiv to-dy's ? I want to tyke 'em. 

Mrs. L. No, me dear. Drat this last one — me old 
fengers ! 

L. AiDA. I learnt some poytry to-dy— I did. 

Mrs. L. Well, I never ! 

L. AiDA. [Reciting with unction] 

"Little lamb who myde thee? 
Dost thou know who myde thee. 
Gyve thee life and byde thee feed 
By the stream and o'er the mead; 
Gyve thee clothing of delight, 
Softest clothmg, woolly, bright; 
Gyve thee such a tender voice, 
Myking all the vyles rejoice. 

Little lamb who myde thee.?^ 
Dost thou know who myde thee?" 
Mrs. L. Tes wonderful what thmgs they tache yu 
nowadays. 

L. AiDA. When I grow up I'm gom' to 'ave a revol- 
ver an' shoot the people that steals my jools. 

Mrs. L. Deary-me, wherever du yu get yure no- 
tions ? 

L. AiDA. An' I'm goin' to ride on an 'orse be'ind a 
man; an' I'm goin' to ryce trynes in my motor car. 



ACT II THE FOUNDATIONS 29 

Mrs. L. [Dryly] Ah ! Yu'um gwine to be very busy, 
that's sartin. Can you sew ? 

L. AiDA. [With a smile] Nao. 

Mrs. L. Don' they tache yu that, there? 

L. Aid A. [Blending contempt and a lingering curi- 
osity] Nao. 

Mrs. L. Tes wonderful genteel. 

L. AiDA. I can sing, though. 

Mrs. L. Let's 'ear yu, then. 

L. Aid A. [Shaking her head] I can ply the planner. 
I can ply a tune. 

Mrs. L. Whose planner.? 

L. AiDA. Mrs. Brahn's when she's gone aht. 

Mrs. L. Well, yu are gettin' edjucation ! Du they 
tache yu to love yure neighbours ? 

L. AiDA. [Ineffably] Nao. [Straying to the window] 
Mrs. Lemmy, what's the moon ? 

Mrs. L. The mune.'* Us yused to zay 'twas made 
o' crame cheese. 

L. AiDA. I can see it. 

Mrs. L. Ah ! Don' yu never go wishin' for it, me 
dear. 

L. AiDA. I daon't. 

Mrs. L. Folks as wish for the mune never du no 
gude. 

L. AiDA. [Craning out, brilliant] I'm goin' dahn in 
the street. I'll come back for yer trahsers. 

Mrs. L. Well, go yu, then, an' get a breath o' fresh 
air in yure chakes. I'll sune 'a feneshed. 



30 THE FOUNDATIONS act ii 

L. AiDA. [Solemnly] I'm gom' to be a dancer, I am. 

She rushes suddenly to the door, pulls it open, 

and is gone. 

Mrs. L. [Looking after her, and talking to herself] 

Ah! 'ErVe a-got all 'er troubles before 'er! "Little 

Iamb, u made 'ee ?" [Cackling] 'Tes a funny world, tu ! 

[She sings to herself, 

"There is a green 'ill far away 
Without a city wall. 
Where our dear Lord was crucified, 
'U died to save us all." 

The door is opened, and Lemmy comes in ; a 
little man with a stubble of dark moustache 
and spiky dark hair; large, peculiar eyes 
he has, and a look of laying his ears back, 
a look of doubting, of perversity with laughter 
up the sleeve, that grows on those who have 
to do with gas and water. He shuts the door. 
Mrs. L. Well, Bob, I 'aven't a-seen yu this tu 
weeks. 

Lemmy comes up to his Toother, and sits down 

on a stool, sets a tool-bag between his knees, 

and speaks in a cockney voice. 

Lemmy. Well, old lydy o' leisure! Wot would y' 

'ave for supper, if yer could choose — salmon wivaht 

the tin, an' tipsy cyke ? 

Mrs. L. [Shaking her head and smiling blandly] 
That's showy. Toad in the 'ole I'd 'ave — and a glass 
o' port wine. 



ACT II THE FOUNDATIONS 31 

Lemmy. Providential. [He opens a tool-bag] Wot 
d'yer think I've got yer? 

Mrs. L. I 'ope yu've a-got yureself a job, my son ! 

Lemmy. [With Ms peculiar smile] Yus, or I couldn't 
'ave afforded yer this. [He takes out a bottle] Not 'arf ! 
This'U put the blood into yer. Pork wine— once in 
the cellars of the gryte. We'll drink the ryyal family 
in this. 

[He apostrophises the portrait of Queen Victoria. 

Mrs. L. Ah! She was a praaper gude queen. I 
see 'er once, when 'er was bein' hurried. 

Lem]MY. Ryalties — I got nothm' to sy agynst 'em 
in this country. But the Styte 'as got to 'ave its 
pipes seen to. The 'ole show's goin' up pop. Yer'U 
wyke up one o' these dyes, old lydy, and find yerself 
on the roof, wiv nuffin' between yer an' the grahnd. 

Mrs. L. I can't tell what yu'm talkin' about. 

Lemmy. We're goin' to *ave a triumpherat in this 
country— Liberty, Equality, Fraternity; an' if yer arsk 
me, they won't be in power six months before they've 
cut each other's throats. But I don't care— I want 
to see the blood flow! [Dispassionately] I don' care 
'oose blood it is. I want to see it flow ! 

Mrs. L. [Indulgently] Yu'm a funny boy, that's 
sartin. 

Lemmy. [Carving at the cork with a knife] This 'ere 
cork is like Sasiety— rotten; it's old— old an' moulderin'. 
[He holds up a bit of cork on the point of the knife] 
Crumblin' under the wax, it is. In goes the screw an' 
out comes the cork. [With unction] — an' the blood 



32 THE FOUNDATIONS act ii 

jBows. [Tipping the bottle, he lets a drop fall into the 
middle of his hand, and licks it up. Gazing with queer 
and doubting commiseration at his mother] Well, old 
dear, wot shall we 'ave it aht of — the gold lovmg-cup, 
or — what? 'Ave yer supper fust, though, or it'll go 
to yer 'ead! [He goes to the cupboard and takes out a 
dish in which a little bread is sopped in a little milk] 
Cold pap ! 'Ow can yer ? ' Yn't yer got a kipper in 
the 'ouse? 

Mrs. L. [Admiring the bottle] Port wine! 'Tis a 
brave treat! I'll 'ave it out of the "Present from 
Margitt," Bob. I tuk 'ee their by excursion when yu 
was six months. Yu 'ad a shrimp an' it choked yu 
praaperly. Yu was always a squeamy little feller. I 
can't never think 'ow yu managed in the war-time, 
makin' they shells. 

Lemmy, who has brought to the table two mugs 

and blown the du^t out of them, fills them 

with port, and hands one to his mother, who 

is eating her bread and milk. 

Lemmy. Ah! No thin' worried me, 'cept the want 

o' soap. 

Mrs. L. [Cackling gently] So it du still, then! 
Luke at yure face. Yu never was a clean boy, like 
Jim. 

She puts out a thin finger and touches his 
cheek, whereon is a black smudge. 
Lemmy. [Scrubbing his cheek with his sleeve] All 
right ! Y'see, I come stryte 'ere, to get rid o' this. 

[He drinks. 



ACT II THE FOUNDATIONS 33 

Mrs. L. [Eating her bread and milk] 'Tes a pity yu'm 
not got a wife to see't yu wash yureself. 

Lemmy [Goggling] Wife! Not me— I daon't want 
ter myke no food for pahder. Wot oh!— they said, 
time o' the war— ye're fightm' for yer children's 
'eritage. Well, wot's the 'eritage like, now we've got 
it ? Empty as a shell before yer put the 'igh explosive 
in. Wot's it like.? [Warming to his theme] Like a 
prophecy in the pypers — not a bit more substantial. 

Mrs. L. [Slightly hypnotised] How 'e du talk ! The 
gas goes to yure 'ead, I think ! 

Lemmy. I did the gas to-dy in the cellars of an 
'ouse where the wine was mountains 'igh. A regiment 
couldn't 'a drunk it. Marble pillars in the 'all, butler 
broad as an observytion balloon, an' four conscientious 
khaki footmen. When the guns was roarm' the talk 
was all for no more o' them glorious weeds— style an' 
luxury was orf. See wot it is naow. You've got a 
bare crust in the cupboard 'ere, I works from 'and to 
mouth in a glutted market — an' there they stand abaht 
agyne in their britches in the 'ouses o' the gryte. I 
was reg'lar overcome by it. I left a thing in that cel- 
lar— I left a thmg. . . . It'll be a bit ork'ard for me 
to-morrer. [Drinks from his mug. 

Mrs. L. [Placidly y feeling the warmth of the little she 
has drunk] What thmg ? 

Lemmy. Wot thing ? Old lydy, ye're like a winkle 
afore yer opens 'er — I never see anythmg so peaceful. 
'Ow d'yer manage it ? 
Mrs. L. Settin' 'ere and thenkin'. 



34 THE FOUNDATIONS act ii 

Lemmy. Wot abaht? 

Mrs. L. We-el — Money, an' the works o' God. 
Lemmy. Ah ! So yer give me a thought sometimes. 
Mrs. L. {Lifting her mug] Yu ought never to ha' 
spent yure money on this, Bob ! 
Lemmy. I thought that meself. 
Mrs. L. Last time I 'ad a glass o' port wine was 
the day yure brother Jim went to Ameriky. [Smacking 
her lips] For a teetotal drink, it du warm 'ee ! 

Lemmy. [Raising his mug] Well, 'ere's to the British 
revolution ! 'Ere's to the conflygrytion in the sky ! 

Mrs. L. [Comfortably] So as to kape up therr, 
'twon't du no 'arm. 

Lemmy goes to the window and unhooks his 
fiddle ; he stands with it halfway to his 
shoulder. Suddenly he opens the window 
and leans out. A confmed murmur of 
voices is heard, and a snatch of the Marseil- 
laise, sung by a girl. Then the shuffling 
tramp of feet, and figures are passing in the 
street. 
Lemmy. [Turning — excited] Wot'd I tell yer, old 
lydy ? There it is — there it is ! 
Mrs. L. [Placidly] What is? 

Lemmy. The revolution. [He cranes out] They've 
got it on a barrer. Cheerio ! 
Voice. [Answering] Cheerio! 

Lemmy. [Leaning out] I sy — ^you 'yn't tykin' the 
body, are yer? 
Voice. Nao. 



ACT II THE FOUNDATIONS 35 

Lemmy. Did she die o' starvy tion — O.K. .? 
Voice. She bloomin' well did; I know 'er brother. 
Lemmy. Ah ! That'll do us a bit o' good ! 
Voice. Cheerio! 
Lemmy. So long ! 
Voice. So long ! 

The girVs voice is heard again in the distance 
singing the Marseillaise. The door is flung 
open and Little Aida conies running in 
again. 
Lemmy. 'Alio, little Aida ! 

L. Aida. 'Alio, I been follerin' the corfin. It's bet- 
ter than an 'orse dahn ! 
Mrs. L. What coffin ? 

L. Aida. Why, 'er's wot died o' starvytion up the 
street. They're gom' to tyke it to 'Yde Pawk, and 
'oiler. 

Mrs. L. Well, never yu mind wot they'm gom' to 
du. Yu wait an' take my trousers like a gude gell. 

She puts her mug aside and takes up her un- 
finished pair of trousers. But the wine has 
entered her fingers, and strength to push the 
needle through is lacking. 
Lemmy. [Tuning his fiddle] Wot'll yer 'ave, little 
Aida.? "Dead March m Saul" or "When the fields 
was white wiv dysies"? 
L. Aida. [With a hop and a brilliant smile] Aoh 

yus ! "When the fields" 

Mrs. L. [With a gesture of despair] Deary me ! I 
'aven't a-got the strength ! 



36 THE FOUNDATIONS act ii 

Lemmy. Leave 'em aloue, old dear! No one'll be 
goin' aht wivaht tralisers to-uight 'cos yer leaves that 
one undone. Little Aida, fold 'em up ! 

Little Aida rnetJiodically folds the Jive finished 
pairs of trousers into a pile. Lemmy begins 
playing. A smile comes on the face of Mrs. 
Lemmy, who is rubbing her fingers. Little 
Aida, trousers over arm, goes and stares at 
Lemmy playing. 
Lemmy. [Stopping] Little Aida, one o' vese dyes 
yer'll myke an actress. I can see it in yer fyce ! 

[Little Aida looks at him wide-eyed. 

Mrs. L. Don't 'ee putt things into 'er 'ead, Bob ! 

Lemmy. 'Tyn't 'er 'ead, old lydy — it's lower. She 

wants feedin' — feed 'er an' she'll rise. [He strikes into 

the " Machichi"] Look at 'er naow. I tell yer there's 

a fortune in 'er. 

[Little Aida has put out her tongue. 
Mrs. L. I'd suner there was a gude 'eart in 'er than 
any fortune. 

L. Aida. [Hugging her pile of troupers] It's thirteen 
pence three farthin's I've got to bring yer, an' a penny 
aht for me, mykes twelve three farthin's. \With the 
same little hop and sudden smile] I'm goin' to ride back 
on a bus, I am. 

Lemmy. Well, you myke the most of it up there; 
it's the nearest you'll ever git to 'eaven. 

Mrs. L. Don' yu discourage 'er. Bob; she'm a 
gude little thing, an't yu, dear? 
L. Aida. [Simply] Yus. 



ACT II THE FOUNDATIONS 37 

Lemmy. Not 'arf. Wot c'her do wiv yesterdy's 
penny ? 
L. AiDA. Movies. 
Lemmy. An' the dy before ? 
L. AiDA. Movies. 

Lemmy. Wot'd I tell yer, old lydy — she's got vicious 
tystes, she'll finish in the theayter yet. Tyke my tip, 
little Aida; you put every penny into yer foundytions, 
yer'll get on the boards quicker that wy. 
Mrs. L. Don' yu pay no 'eed to his talk. 
L. Aida. I daon't. 

Lemmy. Would yer like a sip aht o' my mug ? 
L. Aida. [Brilliant] Yus. 

Mrs. L. Not at yure age, me dear, though it is 
teetotal. 

Little Aida puts her head on one side, like 
a dog trying to understand. 
Lemmy. Well, 'ave one o' my gum-drops. 

[Holds out a paper. 
Little Aida, brilliant, takes a flat, dark sub- 
stance from if, and puts it in her mouth. 
Give me a kiss, an' I'll give yer a penny. 

Little Aida shakes her head, and leans out 
of windoio. 
Muvver, she daon't know the valyer of money. 
Mrs. L. Never mind 'im, me dear. 
L. Aida. [Sucking the gum-drop — with difficulty] 
There's a taxi-cab at the corner. 

Little Aida runs to the door. A figure stands 
in the doorway ; she skids round him and 
out. The Press comes in. 



38 THE FOUNDATIONS act ii 

Lemmy. [Dubiously] Wot — oh! 

Press. Mr. Lemmy.? 

Lemmy. The syme. 

Press. I'm from the Press. 

Lemmy. Blimy. 

Press. They told me at your place you were very 
likely here. 

Lemmy. Yus — I left Downin' Street a bit early 
to-dy ! [He twangs the fiddle-strings pompously. 

Press. [Taking out his note-book and writing] "Fid- 
dles while Rome is burning!" Mr. Lemmy, it's my 
business at this very critical time to find out what the 
nation's thinking. Now, as a representative working 
man 

Lemmy. That's me. 

Press. You can help me. What are your views ? 

Lemmy. [Putting down fiddle] Voos ? Sit dahn ! 

The Press sits on the stool which Lemmy has 
vacated. 
The Press — my Muvver. Seventy-seven. She's a 
wonder; 'yn't yer, old dear.'* 

Press. Very happy to make your acquaintance. 
Ma'am. [He writes] "Mrs. Lemmy, one of the veterans 

of industry " By the way, I've just passed a lot 

of people following a coflSn. 

Lemmy. Centre o' the cyclone — cyse o' starvytion; 
you 'ad 'er in the pyper this mornin'. 

Press. Ah, yes ! Tragic occurrence. [Looking at the 
trousers] Hub of the Sweated Industries just here. I 
especially want to get at the heart 



ACT II THE FOUNDATIONS 39 

Mrs. L. 'Twasn't the 'eart, 'twas the stomach. 
Press. [Writing] "Mrs. Lemmy goes straight to 
the point." 

Lemmy. Mister, is it my voos or Muvver's yer want ? 
Press. Both. 

Lemmy. 'Cos if yer get Muvver's, yer won't 'ave 
time for mine. I tell yer stryte [Confidentially] she's 
got a glawss o' port wine m 'er. Naow, mind yer, I'm 
not anxious to be intervooed. On the other 'and, 

anyfink I might 'ave to sy of valyer There is a 

clawss o' politician that 'as nuflSn to sy Aoh ! an' 

daon't 'e sy it just! I dunno wot pyper yer repre- 
sent 

Press. [Smiling] Well, Mr. Lemmy, it has the big- 
gest influ 

Lemmy. They all 'as that; dylies, weeklies, evenin's, 
Sundyes; but it's of no consequence— my voos are open 
and above-board. Naow, wot shall we begin abaht? 
Press. Yourself, if you please. And I'd like you 
to know at once that my paper wants the human note, 
the real heart-beat of things. 

Lemmy. I see; sensytion! Well, 'ere am I— a fust- 
clawss plumber's assistant— in a job to-dy an' out to- 
morrer. There's a 'eart-beat in that, I tell yer. 'Oo 
knows wot the morrer 'as for me ! 

Press. [Writing] "The great human issue— Mr. 
Lemmy touches it at once." 

Lemmy. I sy— keep my nyme aht o' this; I don' go 
in fer self-advertisement. 



40 THE FOUNDATIONS act ii 

Press. [Writing] "True working-man — modest as 
usual." 

Lemmy. I daon't want to embarrass the Gover'- 
ment. They're so tickhsh ever since they got the 
'abit, war-time, o' mindin' wot people said. 

Press. Right-o! 

Lemmy. For instance, suppose there's goin' to be a 

revolution [The Press writes with energy. 

'Ow does it touch me.^ Like this: I my go up — I 
cawn't come dahn; no more can Muvver. 

Mrs. L. [Surprisingly] Us all goes down into the 
grave. 

Press. "Mrs. Lemmy interjects the deeper note." 

Lemmy. Naow, the gryte — they can come dahn, but 
they cawn't go up ! See ! Put two an' two together, 
an' that's 'ow it touches me. [He utters a throaty laugh] 
'Ave yer got that? 

Press. [Quizzical] Not go up ? What about bombs, 
Mr. Lemmy? 

Lemmy. [Dubious] Wot abaht 'em? I s'pose ye're 
on the comic pypers ? 'Ave yer noticed wot a weak- 
ness they 'ave for the 'orrible ? 

Press. [Writing] "A grim humour peeped out here 
and there through the earnestness of his talk." 

[He sketches Lemmy's profile. 

Lemmy. We 'ad an explosion in my factory time o' 
the war, that would just ha' done for you comics. 
[He meditates] Lord! They was after it too, — they 
an' the Sundyes; but the Censor did 'em. Strike me, 
I could tell yer things ! 



ACT II THE FOUNDATIONS 41 

Press. That's what I want, Mr. Lemmy; tell me 
things ! 

Lemmy. [Mming] It's a funny world, 'yn't it ? 'Ow 
we did blow each other up ! [Getting up to admire] I sy, 
I shall be syfe there. That won't betry me ano- 
nymiety. Why ! I looks like the Prune Minister ! 

Press. [Rather hurt] You were gomg to tell me 
things. 

Lemmy. Yus, an* they'll be the troof , too. 

Press. I hope so; we don't 

Lemmy. Wot oh! 

Press. [A little confused] We always try to verify 

Lemmy. Yer leave it at tryin', daon't yer? Never, 
mmd, ye're a gryte institootion. Blimy, yer do have 
jokes wiv it, spmnin' rahnd on yer own tyles, denyin' 
to-dy wot ye're goin' to print to-morrer. Ah, well ! 
Ye're like all of us below the line o' comfort— live 
dyngerously— every dy yer last. That's wy I'm inter- 
ested in the future. 

Press. Well now— the future. [Writing] "He proph- 
esies." 

Lemmy. It's syf er, 'yn't it ? [He winks] No one never 
looks back on prophecies. I remembers an editor- 
spring o' 1915— stykin' his reputytion the war'd be 
over in the foUerin' October. Increased 'is circulytion 
abaht 'arf a million by it. 1917— an' war still on— 'ad 
'is readers gone back on 'im? Nao ! They was m- 
creasin' like rabbits. Prophesy wot people want to 
believe, an' ye're syfe. Naow, I'll styke my reputytion 
on somethm', you tyke it dahn word for word. This 



42 THE FOUNDATIONS act n 

country's goiii' to the dawgs Naow, 'ere's the 

sensytion — unless we gets a new religion. 

Press. Ah ! Now for it — yes ? 

Lemmy. In one word: "Kmdness." Daon't mistyke 
me, nao sickly sentiment and nao patronizin'. Me as 
kind to the millionaire as 'im to me. [Fills his mug and 
drinks.] 

Press. [Struck] That's queer! Kindness! [Writing] 
"Extremes meet. Bombed and bomber breathing the 
same music." 

Lemmy. But 'ere's the interestin' pynt. Can it be 
done wivaht blood.'* 

Press. [Writing] "He doubts." 

Lemmy. No daht wotever. It cawn't! Blood — 
and — kindness! Spill the blood o' them that aren't 
kind — an' there ye are ! 

Press. But pardon me, how are you to tell ? 

Lemmy. Blimy, they leaps to the heye ! 

Press. [Laying down his note-book] I say, let me talk 
to you as man to man for a moment. 

Lemmy. Orl right. Give it a rest ! 

Press. Your sentiments are familiar to me. I've 
got a friend on the Press who's very keen on Christ 
and kindness; and wants to strangle the last king with 
the — hamstrings of the last priest. 

Lemmy. [Greatly intrigued] Not 'arf ! Does 'e ? 

Press. Yes. But have you thought it out ? Because 
he hasn't. 

Lemmy. The difficulty is — where to stop. 

Press. Where to begin. 



ACT II THE FOUNDATIONS 43 

Lemmy. Lawd ! I could begin almost anywhere. 
Why, every month abaht, there's a cove turns me aht 
of a job 'cos I daon't do just wot 'e Ukes. They'd 'ave 
to go. I tell yer stryte — the Temple wants cleanin' up. 

Press. Ye-es. If I wrote what I thought, I should 
get the sack as quick as you. D'you say that justifies 
me in shedding the blood of my bosses "^ 

Lemmy. The yaller Press 'as got no blood — 'as it? 
You shed their ile an' vinegar — that's wot you've got 
to do. Stryte — do yer believe in the noble mission o' 
the Press ? 

Press. [Enigmatically] Mr. Lemmy, I'm a Press- 
man. 

Lemmy. [Goggling] I see. Not much! [Gently jog- 
ging his mother s elbow] Wyke up, old lydy ! 

For Mrs. Lemmy, who has been sipping placidly 
at her port, is nodding. The evening has 
drawn in. Lemmy strikes a match on his 
trousers and lights a candle. 
Blood an' kmdness— that's what's wanted— 'specially 
blood ! The 'istory o' me an' my family'U show yer 
that. Tyke my bruvver Fred— crushed by burycrats. 
Tyke Muvver 'erself. Talk o' the wrongs o' the peo- 
ple ! I tell yer the foundytions is rotten. [He empties 
the bottle into his mothers mug] Daon't mind the mud 
at the bottom, old lydy— it's all strengthenin' ! You 
tell the Press, Muvver. She can talk abaht the pawst. 
Press. [Taking up his note-hook, and becoming again 
his professional self] Yes, Mrs. Lemmy .^^ *'Age and 
Youth — Past and Present " 



44 THE FOUNDATIONS act ii 

Mrs. L. Were yu talkin' about Fred? [The port has 
warmed her veins, the colour in her eyes and cheeks has 
deepened] My son Fred was always a gude boy — never 
did nothin' before 'e married. I can see Fred [She 
bends forward a little in her chair » looking straight before 
her] comin' in wi' a pheasant 'e'd found — terrible 'e 
was at findin' pheasants. When father died, an' yu 
was comin'. Bob, Fred 'e said to me: "Don't yu never 
cry. Mother, I'll look after 'ee." An' so 'e did, till 'e 
married that day six months an' tuke to the drink in 
sorrer. 'E wasn't never the same boy again — not 

Fred. An' now 'e's in That. I can see poor Fred 

She slowly wipes a tear out of the corner of an 
eye ivith the back of her finger. 

Press. [Puzzled] In— That.? 

Lemmy. [Sotto voce] Come orf it! Prison! 'S wot 
she calls it. 

Mrs. L. [Cheerful] They say life's a vale o' sorrows. 
Well, so 'tes, but don' du to let yureself thenk so. 

Press. And so you came to London, Mrs. Lemmy ? 

Mrs. L. Same year as father died. With the four 
o' them — that's my son Fred, an' my son Jim, an' my 
son Tom, an' Alice. Bob there, 'e was born in London 
— an' a praaper time I 'ad of et. 

Press. [Writing] "Her heroic struggles with pov- 
erty " 

Mrs. L. Worked in a laundry, I ded, at fifteen 
shellin's a week, an' brought 'em all up on et till Alice 
'ad the gallopin' consumption. I can see poor Alice 
wi' the little red spots in 'er cheeks — an' I not knowin' 



ACT II THE FOUNDATIONS 45 

wot to du wi' her— but I always kept up their buryin' 
money. Funerals is very dear; Mr. Lemmy was six 
pound ten. 

Press. "High price of Mr. Lemmy." 
Mrs. L. I've a-got the money for when my time 
come; never touch et, no matter 'ow things are. Bet- 
ter a little goin' short here below, an' enter the king- 
dom of 'eaven independent. 

Press. [Writing] "Death before dishonour— heroine 
of the slums. Dickens— Betty Higden." 

Mrs. L. No, sir. Mary Lemmy. I've seen a-many 
die, I 'ave; an' not one grievin'. I often says to meself : 
[With a liUle laugh] "Me dear, when yu go, yu go 
'appy. Don* yu never fret about that," I says. An' 
so I will; I'll go 'appy. 

She stays quite still a moment, and behind her 
Lemmy draws one finger across his face. 
[Smiling] "Yure old fengers'll 'ave a rest. Think o' 
that!" I says. "'Twill be a brave change." I can 
see myself lym' there an' duiu' nothm'. 

Again a fame, while Mrs. Lemmy sees herself 
doing nothing. 
Lemmy. Tell abaht Jim, old lydy. 
Mrs. L. My son Jim 'ad a family o' seven in six 
years. "I don' know 'ow 'tes, Mother," 'e used to 
say to me; "they just sim to come!" That was Jim 
— never knu from day to day what was comm'. 
"Therr's another of 'em dead," 'e used to say, "'tes 
funny, tu." "Well," I used to say to 'im; "no won- 
der, poor little thmgs, livin' m they model dwellin's. 



46 THE FOUNDATIONS act ii 

Therr's no air for 'em/' I used to say. "Well," 'e used 
to say, "what can I du. Mother? Can't afford to live 
in Park Lane." An' 'e tuke an' went toAmeriky. 
[Her voice for the first time is truly doleful] An' never 
came back. Fine feller. So that's my four sons — 
One's dead, an' one's in — That, an' one's in Ameriky, 
an' Bob 'ere, poor boy, 'e always was a talker. 

Lemmy, who has re-seated himself in the win- 
dow and taken up his fiddle, twangs the 
strings. 

Press. And now a few words about your work, 
Mrs. Lemmy? 

Mrs. L. Well, I sews. 

Press. [Writing] "Sews." Yes? 

Mrs. L. [Holding up her unfinished pair of trousers] 
I putt in the button'oles, I stretches the flies, I lines 
the crutch, I putt on this bindin', [She holds up the 
calico that binds the top] I sews on the buttons, I presses 
the seams — Tuppence three farthin's the pair. 

Press. Twopence three farthings a pair! Worse 
than a penny a line ! 

Mrs. L. In a gude day I gets thru four pairs, but 
they'm gettin' plaguey 'ard for my old fengers. 

Press. [Writing] "A monumental figure, on whose 
labour is built the mighty edifice of our industrialism." 

Lemmt. I sy — that's good. Yer'll keep that, won't 
yer? 

Mrs. L. I finds me own cotton, tuppence three 
farthin's, and other expension is a penny three farthin's. 

Press. And are you an exception, Mrs. Lemmy ? 



ACT II THE FOUNDATIONS 47 

Mrs. L. What's that? 

Lemmy. Wot price the uvvers, old lydy? Is there 
a lot of yer sewin' yer fingers orf at tuppence 'ypenny 
the pair ? 

Mrs. L. I can't tell yu that. I never sees nothin* 
in 'ere. I pays a penny to that little gell to brmg me 
a dozen pair an' fetch 'em back. Poor little thing, 
she'm 'ardly strong enough to carry 'em. Feel! 
They'm very 'eavy ! 

Press. On the conscience of Society ! 

Lemmy. I sy — put that dahn, won't yer ? 

Press. Have things changed much since the war, 
Mrs. Lemmy? 

Mrs. L. Cotton's a lot dearer. 

Press. All round, I mean. 

Mrs. L. Aw ! Yu don' never get no change, not in 
my profession. [She oscillates the trousers] I've a-been 
in trousers fifteen year; ever since I got tu old for 
laundry. 

Press. [Writing] "For fifteen j^ears sewn trousers." 
What would a good week be, Mrs. Lemmy? 

Mrs. L. 'Tes a very gude week, five shellin's. 

Lemmy. [From the windoiv] Bloomin' millionairess, 
Muvver. She's lookin' forward to 'eaven, where vey 
don't wear no trahsers. 

Mrs. L. [With spirit] 'Tidn' for me to zay whether 
they du. An' 'tes on'y when I'm a bit low-sperrity- 
like as I wants to go therr. What I am a-lukin' for- 
ward to, though, 'tes a day in the country. I've not 
a-had one since before the war. A kind lady brought 



48 THE FOUNDATIONS act ii 

me in that bit of 'eather; 'tes wonderful sweet stuff 
when the 'oney's in et. When I was a little gell I used 
to zet in the 'eather gatherin' the whorts, an' me little 
mouth all black wi' eatin' them. 'Twas in the 'eather 
I used to zet, Sundays, courtin'. All flesh is grass — 
an' 'tesn't no bad thing — grass. 

Press [Writing] "The old paganism of the country." 
What is your view of life, Mrs. Lemmy? 

Lemmy. [Suddenly] Wot is 'er voo of life.? Shall I 
tell yer mine .'* Life's a disease — a blinkin' oak-apple ! 
Daon't myke no mistyke. An' 'uman life's a yumour- 
ous disease; that's all the difference. Why — wot else 
can it be ? See the bloomin' promise an' the blighted 
performance — different as a 'eadline to the noos inside. 
But yer couldn't myke Muvver see vat — not if yer 
talked to 'er for a week. Muvver still believes in fings. 
She's a country gell; at a 'undred and fifty she'll be a 
country gell, won't yer, old lydy ? 

Mrs. L. Well, 'tesn't never been 'ome to me in 
London. I lived in the country forty year — I did my 
lovin' there; I hurried father therr. Therr bain't 
nothin' in life, yu know, but a bit o' lovin* — all said an' 
done; bit o' lovin', with the wind, an' the stars out. 

Lemmy. [In a loud apologetic whisper] She 'yn't often 
like this. I told yer she'd got a glawss o' port in 'er. 

Mrs. L. 'Tes a brave pleasure, is lovin'. I likes to 
zee et in young folk. I likes to zee 'em kissin'; shows 
the 'eart in 'em. 'Tes the 'eart makes the world go 
round; 'tesn't nothin' else, in my opinion. 

Press. [Writing] " — smgs the swan song of the 
heart." 



ACT II THE FOUNDATIONS 49 

Mrs. L. [Overhearing] No, I never yeard a swan 
sing— never! But I tell 'ee what I 'ave *eard; the 
gells singm' in th' orchard 'angin' up the clothes to 
dry, an' the cuckoos callin' back to 'em. [Smiling] 
There's a-many songs in the country— the 'eart is free- 
like m th' country ! 

Lemmy. [Sotto voce] Gi' me the Strand at ar' past 
nine. 

Press. [Writing] "Town and country " 

Mrs. L. 'Tidn't like that in London; one day's jest 
like another. Not but what therr's a 'eap o' kmd- 
'eartedness 'ere. 

Lemmy. [Gloomily] Kind-'eartedness ! I daon't fink ! 
"Boys an' gells come out to play." 

[He plays the old tune on his fiddle, 

Mrs. L. [Singing] "Boys an' gells come out to play. 
The mune is shmm' bright as day." [She laughs] I 
used to sing like a lark when I was a gell. 

[Little Aida enters. 

L. Aida. There's 'undreds foUerin' the corfin. 'Yn't 
you goin', Mr. Lemmy— it's dahn your wy ! 

Lemmy. [Dubiously] Well yus— I s'pose they'll miss 
me. 

L. Aida. Aoh ! Tyke me ! 

Press. What's this ? 

Lemmy. The revolution in 'Yde Pawk. 

Press. [Struck] In Hyde Park? The very thing. 
I'll take you down. My taxi's waiting. 

L. Aida. Yus; it's breathin' 'ard, at the corner. 



50 THE FOUNDATIONS act ii 

Press. [Looking at his watch] Ah ! and Mrs. Lemmy. 
There's an Anti-Sweating Meeting going on at a house 
in Park Lane. We can get there in twenty minutes 
if we shove along. I want you to tell them about the 
trouser-making. You'll be a sensation ! 

Lemmy. [To himself] Sensytion! 'E cawn't keep 
orf it! 

Mrs. L. Anti-Sweat. Poor fellers ! I 'ad one come 
to see me before the war, an' they'm still goin' on? 
Wonderful, an't it.? 

Press. Come, Mrs. Lemmy; drive in a taxi, beauti- 
ful moonlit night; and they'll give you a splendid cup 
of tea. 

Mrs. L. [Unmoved] Ah! I cudn't never du with- 
out my tea. There's not an avenin' but I thinks to 
meself : Now, me dear, yu've a-got one more to fennish, 
an' then yu'U 'ave yure cup o' tea. Thank you for 
callin', all the same. 

Lemmy. Better siccumb to the temptytion, old lydy; 
joyride wiv the Press; marble floors, pillars o' gold; 
conscientious footmen; lovely lydies; scuppers runnin' 
tea! An' the revolution goin' on across the wy. 
'Eaven's nuffink to Pawk Lyne. 

Press. Come along, Mrs. Lemmy ! 

Mrs. L. [Seraphically] Thank yu. I'm a-feelin' very 
comfortable. 'Tes wonderful what a drop o' wine' 11 
du for the stomach. 

Press. A taxi-ride ! 

Mrs. L. [Placidly] Ah! I know 'em. They*mvery 
busy thmgs. 



ACT II THE FOUNDATIONS 51 

Lemmy. Muvver shuns iiotority. [Sotto voce to The 
Press] But you watch me ! I'll rouse 'er. 

He takes up his fiddle and sits on the window 
seat. Above the little houses on the opposite 
side of the street, the moon has risen in the 
dark blue sky, so that the cloud shaped like a 
beast seems leaping over it. Lemmy plays 
the first notes of the Marseillaise. A black 
cat on the window-sill outside looks in, hunch- 
ing its back. Little Aida barks at her. 
Mrs. Lemmy struggles to her feet, sweeping 
the empty dish and spoon to the floor in the 
effort. 

The dish ran awy wiv the spoon! That's right, old 
lydy ! [He stops playing. 

Mrs. L. [Smiling, and mming her hands] I like a 
bit o' music. It du that muve 'ee. 

Press. Bravo, Mrs. Lemmy. Come on ! 

Lemmy. Come on, old dear! We'll be in time for 
the revolution yet. 

Mrs. L. 'Tes 'earin' the Old 'Undred again ! 

Lemmy. [To The Press] She 'yn't been aht these 
two years. [To his mother, who has put up her hands to 
her head] Nao, never mind yer 'at. [To The Press] 
She 'yn't got none ! [Aloud] No West-End lydy wears 
anyfink at all in the evenin' ! 

Mrs. L. 'Ow'm I lukin', Bob.? 

Lemmy. Fust-clawss; yer've got a colour fit to toast 



52 THE FOUNDATIONS act n 

by. We'll show 'em yer've got a kick in yer. [He takes 
her arm] Little Aida, ketch 'old o' the sensytions. 

[He indicates the trousers. 
The Press takes Mrs. Lemmy's other arm. 
Mrs. L. [With an excited little laugh] Quite like a 
geU! 

Aiidt smiling between her son and The Press, 
she passes oui; Little Aida, with a fling of 
her heels and a wave of the trousers, follows. 

CURTAIN 



ACT III 

An octagon ante-room off the hall at Lord William 
Dromondy's. a shining room lighted by gold can- 
delahray with gold-curtained pillars, through which 
the shining hall and a little of the grand stairway 
are visible. A small table with a gold-coloured cloth 
occupies the very centre of the room, which has a 
polished parquet floor and high white walls. Gold- 
coloured doors on the left. Opposite these doors a 
loindow with gold-coloured curtains looks out on 
Park Lane. Lady William is standing restlessly 
between the double doors and the arch which leads 
to the hall. James is stationary by the double doors, 
from behind which come sounds of speech and ap- 
plause* 

PouLDER. [Entering frcm the hiUI\ His Grace the 
Duke of Exeter, my lady. 

His Grace enters. He is old, and youthful, 
with a high colour and a short rough white 
beard. Lady William advances to meet him. 
PouLDER stands by. 
Lady W. Oh ! Father, you are late. 
His G. Awful crowd in the streets, Nell. They've 
got a coffin — couldn't get by. 
53 



54 THE FOUNDATIONS act hi 

Lady W. Coffin? Whose? 

His G. The Government's I should think — no 
flowers, by request. I say, have I got to speak ? 

Lady W. Oh ! no, dear. 

His G. H'm! That's unlucky. I've got it here. 
[He looks down his cuff] Found something I said in 1914 
— just have done. 

Lady W. Oh! If you've got it — James, ask Lord 
William to come to me for a moment. [James vanishes 
through the door. To The Dtjke] Go in. Grand-dad; 
they'll be so awfully pleased to see you. I'll tell Bill. 

His G. Where's Anne? 

Lady W. In bed, of course. 

His G. I got her this — rather nice? 

He has taken from his breast-pocket one of those 
street toy-men that jump head over heels on 
your hand; he puts it through its paces. 

Lady W. [Much interested] Oh ! no, but how sweet ! 
She'll simply love it. 

Poulder. If I might suggest to Your Grace to take 
it in and operate it. It's sweated. Your Grace. They 
— er — make them in those places. 

His G. By Jove! D'you know the price, Poulder? 

Poulder. [Interrogatively] A penny, is it? Some- 
thing paltry, Your Grace ! 

His G. "VS^ere's that woman who knows everything; 
Miss Munday ? 

Lady W. Oh ! She'll be in there, somewhere. 

His Grace moves on, and passes through the 
doors. The sound of applause is heard. 



ACT III THE FOUNDATIONS 55 

PoTJLDER. [Discreetly] Would you care to see the 
bomb, my lady? 

Lady W. Of course — first quiet moment. 

PouLDER. I'll bring it up, and have a watch put on 
it here, my lady. 

Lord William comes through the double doorsy 
followed by James. Poulder retires. 

Lord W. Can't you come, Nell ? 

Lady W. Oh ! Bill, your Dad wants to speak. 

Lord W. The deuce he does — that's bad. 

Lady W. Yes, of course, but you must let him; he's 
found something he said in 1914. 

Lord W. I knew it. That's what they'll say. 
Standing stock still, while hell's on the jump around us. 

Lady W. Never mind that; it'll please him; and 
he's got a lovely little sweated toy that turns head over 
heels at one penny. 

Lord W. H'm ! Well, come on. 

Lady W. No, I must wait for stragglers. There's 
sure to be an editor in a hurry. 

Poulder. [Announcing] Mis-ter Gold-rum! 

Lady W. [Sotto voce] And there he is ! [She advances 
to meet a thin, straggling man in eyeglasses, who is smil- 
ing absently] How good of you ! 

Mr. G. Thanks awfully. I just — er — and then I'm 
afraid I must — er — Things look very — Thanks- 
Thanks so much. 

He straggles through the doors, and is enclosed 
by James. 

Poulder. Miss Mun-day. 



56 THE FOUNDATIONS act hi 

Lady W. There! I thought she was in She 

really is the most unexpected woman! How do you 
do ? How awfully sweet of you ! 

Miss M. [An elderly female schoolboy] How do you 
do? There's a spiffing crowd. I believe things are 
really going Bolshy. How do you do, Lord William? 
Have you got any of our people to show ? I told one 
or two, in case — they do so simply love an outing. 

James. There are three old chips in the lobby, my 
Lord. 

Lord W. What? Oh! I say! Brmg them m at 
once. Why — they're the hub of the whole thmg. 

James. [Going] Very good, my Lord. 

Lady W. I am sorry. I'd no notion; and they're 
such dears always. 

Miss M. I must tell you what one of them said to 
me. I'd told him not to use such bad language to his 
wife. "Don't you worry, Ma !" he said, "I expect you 
can do a bit of that yourself ! " 

Lady W. How awfully nice ! It*s so like them. 

Miss M. Yes. They're wonderful. 

Lord W. I say, why do we always call them theyf 

Lady W. [Puzzled] Well, why not? 

Lord W. They I 

Miss M. [Struck] Quite right. Lord William ! Quite 
right! Another species. They! I must remember 
that. They ! [She 'passes on. 

Lady W. [About to follow] Well, I don't see; aren't 
they? 



ACT III THE FOUNDATIONS 57 

Lord W. Never mind, old girl; follow on. They'll 
come in with me. 

Miss Munday and Lady William pass 
through the double doors. 
PouLDER. [Announcing] Some sweated workers, my 
Lord. 

There enter a tall, thin, oldish woman ; a short, 
thin, very lame man, her husband ; and a 
stoutish middle-aged woman with a rolling 
eye and gait, all very poorly dressed, with 
lined and heated faces. 

Lord W. [Shaking hands] How d'you do! De- 
lighted to see you all. It's awfully good of you to 
have come. 

Lame M. Mr. and Mrs. Tomson. We *ad some 
trouble to find it. You see, I've never been in these 
parts. We 'ad to come in the oven ; and the bus-bloke 
put us dahn wrong. Are you the proprietor .'* 

Lord W. [Modestly] Yes, I — er 

Lame M. You've got a nice plyce. I says to the 
missis, I says: "'E's got a nice plyce *ere,'* I says; 
"there's room to turn rahnd." 

Lord W. Yes — shall we ? 

Lame M. An' Mrs. Annaway she says: "Shouldn't 
mind livin' 'ere meself," she says; "but it must cost 'im 
a tidy penny," she says. 

Lord W. It does — it does; much too tidy. Shall 
we ? 

Mrs. Ann. [Rolling her eye] I'm very pleased to 



58 THE FOUNDATIONS act hi 

'ave come, I've often said to 'em: "Any time you 
want me," I've said, "I'd be pleased to come." 
Lord W. Not so pleased as we are to see you. 
Mrs. Ann. I'm sure you're very kind. 
James. [From the double doors, through which he has 
received a message] Wanted for your speech, my Lord. 
Lord W. Oh! God! Poulder, bring these ladies 
and gentleman in, and put them where everybody can 
— where they can see everybody, don't you know. 

[He goes out hurriedly through the double doors. 
Lame M. Is 'e a lord ? 
Poulder. He is. Follow me. 

He moves towards the doors, the three workers 

follow. 

Mrs. Ann. [Stopping before James] You 'yn't one, 

I suppose.'* [James stirs no muscle. 

Poulder. Now please. [He opens the doors. The 

voice of Lord William speaking is heard] Pass in. 

The Three Workers pass in, Poulder and 
3 AMES follow them,. The doors are not closed, 
and through this aperture comes the voice of 
Lord William, punctuated and supported 
hy decorous applause. 
Little Anne runs in, and listens at the win- 
dow to the confused and distant murmurs 
of a crowd. 
Voice of Lord W. We propose to move for a fur- 
ther advance in the chain-making and — er — er — match- 
box industries. [Applause. 
Little Anne runs across to the door, to listen. 



ACT in THE FOUNDATIONS 59 

[On rising voice] I would conclude with some general 
remarks. Ladies and gentlemen, the great natural, 
but — er — artificial expansion which trade experienced 
the first years after the war has — er — collapsed. These 
are hard times. We who are fortunate feel more than 
ever — er — responsible — [He stammers, loses the thread 
of his thoughts. — Applause] — er — responsible — [ The 
thread still eludes him] — er 

L. Anne. [Poignantly] Oh, Daddy ! 

Lord W. [Desperately] In fact — er — you know how 
— er — responsible we feel. 

L. Anne. Hooray ! [Applause. 

There float in through the windows the hoarse 
and distant sounds of the Marseillaise, as 
sung by London voices. 

Lord W. There is a feeling in the air — that I for 
one should say deliberately was — er — a feeling in the 
air — er — a feeling in the air 

L. Anne. [Agonized] Oh, Daddy ! Stop ! 

[James enters, and closes the door behind him. 

James. Look here! 'Ave I got to report you to 
Miss Stokes ? 

L. Anne. No-o-o! 

James. Well, I'm goin' to. 

L. Anne. Oh, James, be a friend to me ! I've seen 
nothing yet. 

James. No; but you've eaten a good bit, on the 
stairs. What price that Peach Melba? 

L. Anne. I can't go to bed till I've digested it — 
can I ? There's such a lovely crowd in the street ! 



60 THE FOUNDATIONS act hi 

James. Lovely? Ho! 

L. Anne. [Wheedling] James, you couldn't tell Miss 
Stokes ! It isn't in you, is it ? 
James. [Grinning] That's right. 
L. Anne. So — I'll just get under here. [She gets 
under the table] Do I show ? 
James. [Stooping] Not 'arf ! 

[Poulder enters from the hall. 
PouLDER. What are you doin' there ? 
James. [Between him and the table — raising himself] 
Thinkm'. 

Poulder purses his mouth to repress his feel- 
ings. 
Poulder. My orders are to fetch the bomb up here 
for Lady William to inspect. Take care no more 
writers stray in. 

James. How shall I know 'em ? 
Poulder. Well — either very bald or very hairy. 
James. Right-o ! [He goes. 

Poulder, with his back to the table, busies 
himself with the set of his collar. 
Poulder. [Addressing an imaginary audience — in a 
low but important voice] The — ah — situation is seerious. 

It is up to us of the — ^ah — leisured classes 

The face of Little Anne is poked out close to 
his legSy and tilts upwards in wonder towards 
the bow of his waistcoat. 
to — ah — keep the people down. The olla poUoi are 

clamour in' 

Miss Stokes appears from the hall, between 
the pillars. 



ACT III THE FOUNDATIONS 61 

Miss S. Poulder! 

PouLDER. [Making a volte face towards the table] 
Miss ? 

Miss S. Where is Anne ? 

Poulder. [Vexed at the disturbance of his speech] Ex- 
cuse me. Miss — to keep track of Miss Anne is fortu- 
nately no part of my dooties. 

Miss S. She really is naughty. 

Poulder. She is. If she was mine, I'd spank her. 
The smiling face of Little Anne becomes visi- 
ble again close to his legs. 

Miss S. Not a nice word. 

Poulder. No; but a pleasant haction. Miss Anne's 
the limit. In fact, Lord and Lady William are much 
too kind-' carted all round. Take these sweated work- 
ers; that class o' people are quite 'opeless. Treatin' 
them as your equals, shakin' 'ands with 'em, givin' 'em 
tea — it only puffs 'em out. Leave it to the Church, 
I say. 

Miss S. The Church is too busy, Poulder. 

Poulder. Ah! That "Purity an' Future o' the 
Race Campaign." I'll tell you what I think' s the dan- 
ger o' that. Miss. So much purity that there won't 
be a future race. [Expanding] Purity of 'cart's an ex- 
cellent thing, no doubt, but there's a want of nature 
about it. Same with this Anti-Sweating. Unless 
you're anxious to come down, you must not put the 
lower classes up. 

Miss S. I don't agree with you at all, Poulder. 

Poulder. Ah! You want it both ways, Miss. I 
should imagine you're a Liberal. 



62 THE FOUNDATIONS act m 

Miss S. [Horrified] Oh, no ! I certainly am not. 
PouLDER. Well, I judged from your takin' cocoa. 
Funny thing that, about cocoa — how it still runs 
through the Liberal Party ! It's virtuous, I suppose. 
Wine, beer, tea, coffee — all of 'em vices. But cocoa — 
you might drink a gallon a day and annoy no one but 
yourself ! There's a lot o' deep things in life, Miss ! 
Miss S. Quite so. But I must find Anne. 

[She recedes. 
PouLDER. [Suavely] Well, I wish you every success; 
and I hope you'll spank her. This modern education 
— there's no fruitiness in it. 

L. Anne. [From under the table] Poulder, are you 
virtuous ? 
Poulder. [Jumping] Good Ged ! 
L. Anne. D'you mind my asking.'^ I promised 
James I would. 
Poulder. Miss Anne, come out! 

[The four footmen appear in the hall, Henry 

carrying the wine cooler. 

James. Form fours — by your right — quick march! 

[They enter, marching down right of table. 

Right incline— Mark time ! Left turn ! 'Alt ! 'Enry, 

set the bomb ! Stand easy ! 

Henry places the wine cooler on the table and 

covers it with a blue embroidered Chinese mat, 

which has occupied the centre of the tablecloth. 

Poulder. Ah ! You will 'ave your game ! Thomas, 

take the door there! James, the 'all! Admit titles 



ACT III THE FOUNDATIONS 63 

an' bishops. No literary or Labour people. Charles 
and 'Enry, 'op it and 'ang about ! 

Charles and Henry go out, the other too 

move to their stations. 
PouLDER stands by the table looking at the 
covered bomb. The hoarse and distant sounds 
of the Marseillaise float in again from Park 
Lane. 
[Moved by some deep feeling] And this house an *orspi- 
tal in the war ! I ask you — what was the good of all 
our sacrifices for the country ? No town 'ouse for four 
seasons — rustygettin' in the shires, not a soul but two 
boys under me. Lord William at the front. Lady Wil- 
liam at the back. And all for this ! [He points sadly 
at the cooler] It comes of meddlin' on the Continent. 
I had my prognostications at the time. [To James] You 
remember my sayin' to you just before you joined up: 
"Mark my words — we shall see eight per cent, for our 
money before this is over!" 

James. [Sepulchrally] I see the eight per cent., but 
not the money. 

PouLDER. Hark at that ! 

The sounds of the Marseillaise grow louder. 
He shakes his head. 

I'd read the Riot Act. They'll be lootin' this house 
next! 

James. We'll put up a fight over your body: "Bar- 
tholomew Poulder, faithful unto death!" Have you 
insured your life.^ 



64 THE FOUNDATIONS act in 

PouLDER. Against a revolution ? 

James. Act o' God ! Why not? 

PouLDER. It's not an act o' God. 

James. It is; and I sympathise with it. 

PouLDER. You — ^what.? 

James. I do — only — hands off the gov*nor. 

PouLDER. Oh! Reelly! Well, that's something. 
I'm glad to see you stand behind him, at all events. 

James. I stand in front of 'im when the scrap begins ! 

PouLDER. Do you insinuate that my heart's not in 
the right place ? 

James. Well, look at it! It's been creepin' down 
ever since I knew you. Talk of your sacrifices in the 
war — they put you on your honour, and you got stout 
on it. Rations — not 'arf ! 

Poulder. [Staring at him] For independence, I've 
never seen your equal, James. You might be an Aus- 
tralian ! 

James. [Suavely] Keep a civil tongue, or I'll throw 
you to the crowd ! [He comes forward to the table] Shall 
I tell you why I favour the gov'nor ? Because, with all 
his pomp, he's a gentleman, as much as I am. Never 
asks you to do what he wouldn't do himself. What's 
more, he never comes it over you. If you get drunk, 
or — well, you understand me, Poulder — he'll just say: 
"Yes, yes; I know, James !" till he makes you feel he's 
done it himself. [Sinking his voice mysteriously] I've 
had experience with him, in the war and out. Why ! 
he didn't even hate the Huns, not as he ought. I tell 
you he's no Christian. 



ACT III THE FOUNDATIONS 65 

PouLDER. Well, for irreverence ! 



James. [Obstinately] And he'll never be. He's got 
too soft a heart. 

L. Anne. [Beneath the table — shrilly] Hurrah ! 

PouLDER. [Jumping] Come out. Miss Anne ! 

James. Let 'er alone ! 

PouLDER. In there, under the bomb.? 

James. [Contemptuously] Silly ass ! You should take 
'em lying down ! 

PouLDER. Look here, James ! I can't go on in this 
revolutionary spirit; either you or I resign. 

James. Crisis in the Cabinet! 

PouLDER. I give you your marchin' orders. 

James. [Ineffably] What's that you give me.'* 

Poulder. Thomas, remove James! 

[Thomas grins. 

L. Anne. [Who, loith open mouth, has crept out to 
see the fun] Oh ! Do remove James, Thomas ! 
Poulder. Go on, Thomas ! 

Thomas takes one step towards James, who lays 
a hand on the Chinese mat covering the bomb, 

James. [Grimly] If I lose control of meself 

L. Anne. [Clapping her hands] Oh ! James ! Do lose 
control ! Then I shall see it go off ! 

James. [To Poulder] Well, I'll merely empty the 
pail over you ! 

Poulder. This is not becomin' ! 

[He walks out into the hall. 



66 THE FOUNDATIONS act iii 

James. Another strategic victory! What a Boche 
he'd have made. As you were. Tommy ! 

Thomas returns to the door. The sound of 
prolonged applause comes from within. 
That's a bishop. 
L. Anne. Why.? 

James. By the way he's drawin'. It's the fine 
fightin' spirit in 'em. They were the backbone o' the 
war. I see there's a bit o' the old stuff left in you, 
Tommy. 

L. Anne. [Scrutinizing the widely-grinning Thomas] 
Where.? Is it in his mouth.? 

James. You've still got a sense of your superiors. 
Didn't you notice how you moved to Poulder's orders, 
me boy; an' when he was gone, to mine ? 
L. Anne. [To Thomas] March! 

[The grinning Thomas remains immovable. 
He doesn't, James ! 

James. Look here. Miss Anne — your lights ought to 
be out before ten. Close in. Tommy ! 

[He and Thomas move towards her. 
L. Anne. [Dodging] Oh, no ! Oh, no ! Look ! 

The footmen stop and turn. There between the 
pillars stands Little Aida with the trousers, 
her face brilliant with surprise. 
James. Good Lord ! What's this ? 

Seeing Little Anne, Little Aida approaches, 
fascinated, and the two children sniff at each 
other as it were like two little dogs walking 
round and round. 



ACT III THE FOUNDATIONS 67 

L. Anne. [Suddejily] My name's Anne; what's 
yours ? 

L. Aid A. Aida. 

L. Anne. Are you lost? 

L. Aida. Nao. 

L. Anne. Are those trousers? 

L. Aida. Yus. 

L. Anne. Whose? 

L. Aida. Mrs. Lemmy's. 

L. Anne. Does she wear them? 

[Little Aida smiles brilliantly. 

L. Aida. Nao. She sews 'em. 

L. Anne. [Touching the trousers] They are hard. 
James's are much softer; aren't they, James ? [James 
deigns no reply] What shall we do? Would you like 
to see my bedroom ? 

L. Aida. [With a hyp] Aoh, yus ! 

James. No. 

L. Anne. Why not? 

James. Have some sense of what's fittin'. 

L. Anne. Why isn't it fittin'? [To Little Aida] 
Do you like me ? 

L. Aida. Yus-s. 

L. Anne. So do I. Come on ! 

[She takes Little Aida's hand. 

James. [Between the pillars] Tommy, ketch 'em! 
[Thomas retains them by the shirts. 

L. Anne. [Feigning indifference] All right, then! 
[To Little Aida] Have you ever seen a bomb ? 

L. Aida. Nao. 



68 THE FOUNDATIONS act m 

L. Ajstne. [Going to the table and lifting a corner of 
the cover] Look ! 

L. AiDA. [Looking] What's it for? 

L. Anne. To blow up this house. 

L. AiDA. I daon't fink ! 

L. Anne. Why not? 

L. AiDA. It's a beautiful big 'ouse. 

L. Anne. That's why. Isn't it, James.'' 

L. AiDA. You give the fing to me; I'll blow up our 
'ouse — it's an ugly little 'ouse. 

L. Anne. [Struck] Let's all blow up our own; then 
we can start fair. Daddy would like that. 

L. AiDA. Yus. [Suddenly brilliant] I've 'ad a ride in 
a taxi, an' we're goin' 'ome in it agyne ! 

L. Anne. Were you sick ? 

Little Aida. [Brilliant] Nao. 

L. Anne. I was, when I first went in one, but I was 
quite young then. James, could you get her a Peche 
Melba.'* There was one, 

James. No. 

L. Anne. Have you seen the revolution ? 

L. Aida. Wot's that.? 

L. Anne. It's made of people. 

L. Aida. I've seen the corfin, it's myde o* wood. 

L. Anne. Do you hate the rich? 

L. Aida. [Ineffably] Nao. I hates the poor. 

L. Anne. Why? 

L. Aida. 'Cos they 'yn't got nuflSn'. 

L. Anne. I love the poor. They're such dears. 

L. Aida. [Shaking her head with a broad smile] Nao. 



ACT III 



THE FOUNDATIONS 



L. Anne. Why not ? 

L. AiDA. I'd tyke and lose the lot, I would. 

L. Anne. Where? 

L. AiDA. In the water. 

L. Anne. Like puppies ? 

L. AiDA. Yus. 

L. Anne. Why? 

L. AiDA. Then I'd be shut of 'em. 

L. Anne. [Puzzled] Oh! 

The voice of The Press is heard in the hall. 
'*Wheres the little girl?'' 
James. That's you. Come 'ere ! 

He puts a hand behind Little Aida's back 

and propeb her towards the hall The Press 

enters with old Mrs. Lemmy. 

Press. Oh ! Here she is, major domo. I'm going 

to take this old lady to the meeting; they want her on 

the platform. Look after our friend, Mr. Lemmy 

here; Lord William wants to see him presently. 

L. Anne. [In an awed whisper] James, it's the little 
blighter ! 

She dives again under the table. Lemmy enters. 
Lemmy. 'Ere! 'Arf a mo'! Yer said yer'd drop 
me at my plyce. Well, I tell yer candid— this 'yn't 
my plyce! 

Press. That's all right, Mr. Lemmy. [He grins] 
They'll make you wonderfully comfortable, won't you, 
major domo ? 

He passes on through the room, to the door, 
ushering old Mrs. Lemmy and Little Aida. 



70 THE FOUNDATIONS act hi 

PouLDER blocks Lemmy's way, with Charles 
and Henry behind him. 
PoULDER. James, watch it; I'll report. 

He moves away, following The Press through 
the door. James between table and window. 
Thomas has gone to the door. Henry and 
Charles remain at the entrances to the hall. 
Lemmy looks dubiously around, his cockney 
assurance gradually returns. 
Lemmy. I think I knows the gas 'ere. This is where 
I came to-dy, 'yn't it.^* Excuse my hesitytion — these 
little 'ouses is so much the syme ! 
James. [Gloomily] They are ! 

Lemmy. [Looking at the four immovable footmen, till 
he concentrates on James] Ah ! I 'ad a word wiv you, 
'adn't I? You're the four conscientious ones wot's 
wyia' on your gov'nor's chest. 'Twas you I spoke to, 
wasn't it? [His eyes travel over them again] Ye're so 
monotonous. Well, ye're busy now, I see. I won't 
wyste yer time. 

He turns towards the hall, but Charles and 
Henry bar the way in silence. 
[Skidding a little, and regarding the four immovables once 
more] I never see such pytient men.? Compared wiv 
yer, mountains is restless ! 

He goes to the table. James watches him. 

Anne barks from underneath. 

[Skidding again] Why ! There's a dawg under there. 

[Noting the grin on Thomas's face] Glad it amooses 

yer. Yer want it, daon't yer, wiv a fyce like that.? 



ACTiii THE FOUNDATIONS 71 

Is this a ply wivaht words ? 'Ave I got into the movies 
by mistyke ? Turn aht, an' let's 'ave six penn'orth o' 
darkness. 
L. Anne. [From beneath the table] No, no 1 Not dark ! 
Lemmy. [Musingly] The dawg talks anywy. Come 
aht, Fido ! 

Little Anne emerges, and regards him with 
burning curiosity. 
I sy: Is this the lytest fashion o' receivm' guests? 

L. Anne. Mother always wants people to feel at 
home. What shall we do.f^ Would you like to hear 
the speeches ? Thomas, open the door a little, do ! 
James. 'Umour 'er a couple o' inches. Tommy ! 

Thomas draws the door back stealthily an inch 
or so. 
L. Anne. [After applying her eye — in a loud whisper] 
There's the old lady. Daddy's looking at her trousers. 
Listen ! 

For Mrs. Lemmy's voice is floating faintly 
through: " I putt in the buttonholes, I stretches 
the flies ; 1 'ems the bottoms ; / lines the 
crutch ; I putt on this bindin' ; I sews on the 
buttons ; I presses the seams — Tuppence 
three farthin's the pair. 
Lemmy. [In a hoarse whisper] That's it, old lydy: 
give it 'em ! 
L. Anne. Listen! 

Voice of Lord W. We are indebted to our friends 
the Press for giving us the pleasure — er — pleasure of 
hearing from her own lips — the pleasure 



72 THE FOUNDATIONS act m 

L. Anne. Oh ! Daddy ! 

[Thomas abruptly closes the doors. 

Lemmy. [To Anne] Now yer've done it. See wot 
comes o' bein' impytient. We was just gettin' to the 
marrer. 

L. Anne. What can we do for you now ? 

Lemmy. [Pointing to Anne, and addressing James] 
Wot is this one, any wy ? 

James. [Sepulchrally] Daughter o' the house. 

Lemmy. Is she insured agynst 'er own curiosity.'^ 

L. Anne. Why.? 

Lemmy. As I daon't believe in a life beyond the 
gryve, I might be tempted to send yer there. 

L. Anne. What is the gryve? 

Lemmy. Where little gells goes to. 

L. Anne. Oh, whenF 

Lemmy. [Pretending to look at a watch, which is not 
there] Well, I dunno if I've got time to finish yer this 
minute. Sy to-morrer at 'arf past. 

L. Anne. Half past what ? 

Lemmy. [Despairingly] 'Arf past wot ! 

[The sound of applause is heard. 

James. That's 'is Grace. 'E's gettin' wickets, too. 
[Poulder entering from the door. 

PouLDER. Lord William is slippin' in. 

He makes a cabalistic sign with his head. 
James crosses to the door. Lemmy looks 
dubiously at Poulder. 



ACT III THE FOUNDATIONS 73 

Lemmy. [Suddenly — as to himself] Wot oh ! I am 
the portly one ! 

PouLDER. [Severely] Any such allusion aggeravates 
3^our offence. 

Lemmy. Oh, ah ! Look *ere, It was a corked bottle. 
Now, tyke care, tyke care, 'aughty ! Daon't curl yer 
lip ! I shall myke a clean breast o' my betryal when 
the time comes ! 

There is a slight movement of the door. Anne 
makes a dive towards the table but is arrested 
by PouLDER grasping her waistband. Lord 
William slips in, followed by The Press, 
on whom James and Thomas close the door 
too soon. 
Half of the Press. [Indignantly] Look out ! 
James. Do you want him in or out, me Lord ? 
Lemmy. I sy, you've divided the Press; 'e was 
unanimous. 

[The Footmen let The Press through. 
Lord W. [To The Press] I'm so sorry. 
Lemmy. Would yer like me to see to 'is gas? 
Lord W. So you're my friend of the cellars? 
Lemmy. [Uneasy] I daon't deny it. 

[PouLDER begins removing Little Anne. 
L. Anne. Let me stay, Daddy; I haven't seen any- 
thing yet! If I go, I shall only have to come down 
again when they loot the house. Listen ! 

The hoarse strains of the Marseillaise are again 
heard from the distance. 
Lord W. [Blandly] Take her up, Poulder ! 



74 THE FOUNDATIONS act hi 

L. Anne. Well, I'm coming down again — and next 
time I shan't have any clothes on, you know. 

They vanish hetioeen the 'pillars. Lord Wil- 
liam makes a sign of dismissal. The Foot- 
men file ovt. 

Lemmy. [Admiringly] Luv'ly pyces ! 

Lord W. [Pleasantly] Now then; let's have our talk, 
Mr. 

Lemmy. Lemmy. 

Press. [Who has slipped his note-hook out] "Bombed 
and Bomber face to face " 

Lemmy. [Uneasy] 1 didn't come 'ere agyne on me 
own, yer know. The Press betryed me. 

Lord W. Is that old lady your mother ? 

Lemmy. The syme. I tell yer stryte, it was for 'er 
I took that old bottle o' port. It was orful old. 

Lord W. Ah! Port.? Probably the '63. Hope 
you both enjoyed it. 

Lemmy. So far — yus. Muwer'll suffer a bit to- 
morrer, I expect. 

Lord W. I should like to do something for your 
mother, if you'll allow me. 

Lemmy. Oh! I'll allow yer. But I dunno wot 
she'll sy. 

Lord W. I can see she*s a fine independent old 
lady! But suppose you were to pay her ten bob a 
week, and keep my name out of it? 

Lemmy. Well, that's one wy o' you doin* somefink, 
'yn't it? 

Lord W. I giving you the money, of course. 



ACT III THE FOUNDATIONS 75 

Press. [Writing] "Lord William, with kingly gen- 
erosity " 

Lemmy. [Drawing attention to The Press with his 
thumb] I sy — I daon't mind, meself — if you daon't 

Lord W. He won't write anything to annoy me. 

Press. This is the big thing, Lord William; it'll get 
the public bang m the throat. 

Lemmy. [Confidentially] Bit dyngerous, 'yn't it.'' — 
trustin' the Press .'^ Their right 'ands never knows 
wot their left 'ands is writin'. [To The Press] 'Yn't 
that true, speakin' as a man ? 

Press. Mr. Lemmy, even the Press is capable of 
gratitude. 

Lemmy. Is it ? I should ha' thought it was too im- 
portant for a little thing like that. [To Lord William] 
But ye're quite right; we couldn't do wivaht the Press 
— there wouldn't be no distress, no corfin, no revolu- 
tion — 'cos nobody'd know nuffin' abaht it. Why! 
There wouldn't be no life at all on Earf in these dyes, 
wivaht the Press ! It's them wot says: **Let there be 
Light — an' there is Light." 

Lord W. Umm! That's rather a new thought to 
me. [Writes on his cuff.] 

Lemmy. But abaht Muvver, I'll tell yer 'ow we can 
arrynge. You send 'er the ten bob a week wivaht 
syin' anyfink, an' she'll fink it comes from Gawd or the 
Gover'ment — yer cawn't tell one from t'other in Befnal 
Green. 

Lord W. All right; we'll do that. 



76 THE FOUNDATIONS act hi 

Lemmt. Will yer reely ? I'd like to shyke yer 'and. 
Lord William puts out his hand, which 
Lemmy grasps. 

Press. [Writing] "The heart-beat of humanity was 
in that grasp between the son of toil and the son of 
leisure." 

Lemmy. [Already ashamed of his emotion] 'Ere, 'arf 
a mo' ! Which is which ? Daon't forget I'm aht o' 
work; Lord William, if that's 'is nyme, is workin' 'ard 
at 'is Anti-Sweats ! Wish I could get a job like vat — 
jist suit me ! 

Lord W. That hits hard, Mr. Lemmy ! 

Lemmy. Daon't worry ! Yer cawn't 'elp bein' born 
in the purple! 

Lord W. Ah ! Tell me, what would you do in my 
place ? 

Lemmy. Why — as the nobleman said in 'is well- 
known wy: "Sit in me Club winder an' watch it rjiie 
on the dam people !" That's if I was a average noble- 
man ! If I was a bit more noble, I might be tempted 
to come the kind-'earted on twenty thou' a year. 
Some prefers yachts, or ryce 'orses. But philanthropy 
on the 'ole is syfer, in these dyes. 

Lord W. So you think one takes to it as a sort of 
insurance, Mr. Lemmy.? Is that quite fair.'' 

Lemmy. Well, we've all got a weakness towards 
bein' kind, somewhere abaht us. But the moment 
wealf comes in, we 'yn't wot I call single- 'carted. If 
yer went into the foundytions of your wealf — would 
yer feel like 'avin' any? It all comes from uvver 
people's 'ard, unpleasant lybour — it's all built on 



ACT III THE FOUNDATIONS 77 

Muvver as yer might sy. An' if yer daon't get rid o* 
some of it in bein' kind — yer daon't feel syfe nor comfy. 

Lord W. [Twisting his moustache] Your philosophy 
is very pessimistic. 

Lemmy. Well, / calls meself an optimist; I sees the 
worst of everyfink. Never disappynted, can afford to 
*ave me smile under the blackest sky. When deaf is 
squeezin' of me windpipe, I shall 'ave a laugh in it! 
Fact is, if yer've 'ad to do wiv gas an' water pipes, yer 
can fyce anyfing. [The distant Marseillaise blares up] 
'Ark at the revolution ! 

Lord W. [Rather desperately] I know — hunger and 
all the rest of it! And here am I, a rich man, and 
don't know what the deuce to do. 

Lemmy. Well, I'll tell yer. Throw yer cellars open, 
an' while the populyce is gettin' drunk, sell all yer 'ave 
an' go an' live in Ireland; they've got the millennium 
chronic over there. 

Lord William utters a shorty vexed laughs and 
begins to walk about. 
That's speakin' as a practical man. Speakin' as a 
synt — "Bruvvers, all I 'ave is yours. To-morrer I'm 
goin' dahn to the Lybour Exchynge to git put on the 
wytin' list, syme as you !" 

Lord W. But, d it, man, there we should be, 

all together ! Would that help ? 

Lemmy. Nao; but it'd syve a lot o' blood. 

Lord William stops abruptly, and looks first 
at Lemmy, then at the cooler, still covered 
ivith the Chinese mat. 
Yer thought the Englishman could be taught to shed 



78 THE FOUNDATIONS act m 

blood wiv syfety. Not 'im! Once yer git 'im into 
an 'abit, yer cawn't git 'im out of it agyne. 'E'll go 
on sheddin' blood mechanical — Conservative by nyture. 
An' 'e won't myke nuffin' o' yours. Not even the 
Press wiv 'is 'oneyed words'll sty 'is 'and. 

Lord W. And what do you suggest we could have 
done, to avoid trouble.'* 

Lemmy. [Warming to his theme] I'll tell yer. If all 
you wealfy nobs wiv kepitel 'ad come it kind from the 
start after the war yer'd never 'a been 'earin' the 
Marseillaisy naow. Lord! ,'Ow you did talk abaht 
Unity and a noo spirit in the Country. Noo spirit! 
Why, soon as ever there was no dynger from outside, 
yer stawted to myke it inside, wiv an iron 'and. Naow, 
you've been in the war an' it's given yer a feelin' 'eart; 
but most of the nobs wiv kepitel was too old or too 
important to fight. They weren't born agj^ne. So 
naow that bad times is come, we're 'owlin' for their 
blood. 

Lord W. I quite agree; I quite agree. I've often 
said much the same thing. ' 

Lemmy. Voice cryin' in the wilderness — I daon't sy 
we was yngels — there was faults on bofe sides. [He 
looks at The Press] The Press could ha' helped yer a 
lot. Shall I tell yer wot the Press did ? "It's vital," 
said the Press, "that the country should be united, 
or it will never recover." Nao strikes, nao 'uman 
nature, nao nuffink. Kepitel an' Lybour like the 
Siamese twins. And, fust dispute that come along, 
the Press orfs wiv its coat an' goes at it bald-'eaded. 



ACT III THE FOUNDATIONS 79 

An' wot abaht since? Sich a riot o' nymes called, in 
Press and Pawlyement — Unpatriotic an' outrygeous 
demands o' lybour. Blood-suckin' tyranny o' Kepitel; 
thieves an' dawgs an' 'owlin Jackybines — gents throwin' 
books at each other; all the resources of edjucytion ex- 
hausted ! If I'd been Prime Minister I'd 'ave 'ad the 
Press's gas cut 'orf at the meter. Puffect liberty, of 
course, nao Censorship; just sy wot yer like — an' never 
be 'card of no more. 

Turning suddenly to The Press, who has been 
scribbling in pace with this harangue, and 
now has developed a touch of writer's cramp. 
Why ! 'Is 'and's out o' breath ! Fink o' vet ! 

Lord W. Great tribute to your eloquence, Mr. 
Lemmy ! 

A sudden stir of applause and scraping of 
chairs is heard; the meeting is evidently 
breaking up. Lady William conies in, 
followed by Mrs. Lemmy with her troupers, 
and Little Aida. Lemmy stares fixedly at 
this sudden radiant apparition. His gaze 
becomes as that of a rabbit regarding a snake. 
And suddenly he puts up his hand and wipes 
his brow. 
Lady William, going to the table, lifts one end 
of the Chinese mat, and looks at Lemmy. 
Then she turns to Lord William. 
Lady W. Bill! 

Lemmy. [To his mother — in a hoarse whimper] She 
calls 'im Bill. *0w! 'Yn't she IT? 



80 THE FOUNDATIONS act hi 

Lady W. [Apart] Have you spoken to liim? 

[Lord William shakes his head. 
Not? What have you been saying, then? 
Lord W. Nothing, he's talked all the time. 
Lady W. [Very low] What a little caution ! 
Lord W. Steady, old girl! He's got his eye on 
you! 

Lady William looks at Lemmy, whose eyes 
are still fixed on her. 

Lady W. [With resolution] Well, Fm going to tackle 
him. 

She moves towards Lemmy, who again wipes 
his hroWy and lorings out his hand. 

Mrs. Lemmy. Don't 'ee du that. Bob. Yu must 
forgive 'im. Ma'am; it's 'is admiration. 'E was always 
one for the ladies, and he'm not used to seein' so much 
of 'em. 

Lady W. Don't you think you owe us an explana- 
tion? 

Mrs. L. Speak up. Bob. 

[But Lemmy only shifts his feet. 
My gudeness! 'EVe a-lost 'is tongue. I never knu 
that 'appen to 'e before. 

Lord W. [Trying to break the embarrassment] No ill- 
feeling, you know, Lemmy. 

[But Lemmy still only rolls his eyes. 

Lady W. Don't you think it was rather — incon- 
siderate of you ? 



ACT III THE FOUNDATIONS 81 

Lemmy. Muvver, tyke me aht, I'm feelin' fynte ! 

Spurts of the Marseillaise and the mutter of 
the crowd have been coming nearer ; and 
suddenly a knocking is heard. Poulder 
and James appear between the pillars. 
Poulder. The populace, me Lord ! 
Lady W. What ! 

Lord W. Where' ve you put 'em, Poulder ? 
Poulder. They've put theirselves in the portico, 
me Lord. 

Lord W. {Suddenly wiping his brow] Phew ! I say, 
this is awful, Nell! Two speeches in one evening. 
Nothing else for it, I suppose. Open the window, 
Poulder ! 

Poulder. [Crossing to the window] We are prepared 
for any sacrifice, me Lord. [He opens the window. 

Press. [Writing furiously] *'Lady William stood like 
a statue at bay." 
Lord W. Got one of those lozenges on you, Nell ? 

But Lady William has almost nothing on her. 
Lemmy. [Producing a paper from his pocket] 'Ave 
one o' my gum drops ? 

[He passes it to Lord William. 
Lord W. [Unable to refuse, takes a large flat gum 
drop from the paper, and looks at it in embarrassment] 
Ah ! thanks ! Thanks awfully ! 

Lemmy turns to Little Aida, and puts a gum 
drop in her mouth. A burst of murmurs 
from the crowd. 



82 THE FOUNDATIONS act hi 

James. [Towering above the wine cooler] If they get 
saucy, me Lord, I can always give 'em their own back. 
Lord W. Steady, James; steady! 

He puts the gum drop absently in his mouih, 
and turns up to the open window. 

Voice. [Outside] 'Ere they are — the bally pluto- 
crats. [Voices in chorus : ''Bread I Bread /" 

Lord W. Poulder, go and tell the chef to send out 
anything there is in the house — ^nicely> as if it came 
from nowhere in particular. 

Poulder. Very good, me Lord. [Sotto voce] Any 
wine.'^ If I might suggest — German — 'ock.^^ 

Lord W. What you like. 

Poulder Very good, me Lord. [He goes. 

Lord W. I say, dash it, Nell, my teeth are stuck ! 
[He works his finger in his mouth. 

Lady W. Take it out, darling. 

Lord W. [Taking out the gum drop and looking at 
it] What the deuce did I put it in for.? 

Press. [Writing] "With inimitable coolness Lord 
William prepared to address the crowd." 

[Voices in chorus : "Bread I Bread /" 

Lord W. Stand by to prompt, old girl. Now for it. 
This ghastly gum drop ! 

Lady William takes it from his agitated hand, 
and flips it through the vdndow. 

Voice. Dahn with the aristo [Chokes. 

Lady W. Oh ! Bill — oh I It's gone into a mouth ! 



ACT III THE FOUNDATIONS 83 

Lord W. Good God ! 

Voice. Wot's this? Tlirowin' things? Mind aht, 
or we'll smash yer winders ! 

As the voices in chorus chant: ''Bread! 
Bread t ' ' Little Anne, night-gowned, darts 
in from the hall. She is followed by Miss 
Stokes. They stand listening. 

Lord W. [To the Crowd] My friends, you've come 
to the wrong shop. There's nobody in London more 
sympathetic with you. [The crowd laughs hoarsely. 
[Whispering] Look out, old girl; they can see your 
shoulders. [Lady William moves back a step. 
If I were a speaker, I could make you feel 

Voice. Look at his white weskit ! Blood-suckers- 
fattened on the people ! 

[James dives his hand at the wine cooler. 

Lord W. I've always said the Government ought 

to take immediate steps 

Voice. To shoot us dahn. 

Lord W. Not a bit. To relieve the—er 

Lady W. [Prompting] Distress. 

Lord W. Distress, and ensure — er — ensure 

Lady W. [Prompting] Quiet. 

Lord W. [To her] No, no. To ensure— ensure 

L. Anne. [Agonized] Oh, Daddy ! 

Voice. 'E wants to syve 'is dirty great 'ouse. 

Lord W. [Roused] D if I do ! 

[Rude and hoarse laughter from the crowd. 



84 THE FOUNDATIONS act in 

James. [With fury] Me Lord, let me blow 'em to 
glory ! 

He raises the cooler and advances towards the 
window. 

Lord W. [Turning sharply on him] Drop it, James; 
drop it ! 
Press. [Jumjnng] No, no; don't drop it ! 

James retires crestfallen to the table, where he 
replaces the cooler. 

Lord W. [Catching hold of his bit] Look here, I 
must have fought alongside some of you fellows in the 
war. Weren't we jolly well like brothers.'' 

A Voice. Not so much bloomin' "Kamerad"; hand 
over yer 'ouse. 

Lord W. I was born with this beastly great house, 
and money, and goodness knows what other entangle- 
ments — a wife and family 

Voice. Born with a wife and family ! 

[Jeers and laughter. 

Lord W. I feel we're all in the same boat, and I 
want to pull my weight. If you can show me the way, 
I'll take it fast enough. 

A Deep Voice. Step dahn then, an' we'll step up. 

Another Voice. 'Ear, 'Ear! 

[A fierce little cheer. 

Lord W. [To Lady William — in despair] By George ! 
I can't get in anywhere ! 
Lady W. [Calmly] Then shut the window. Bill. 



ACT III THE FOUNDATIONS 85 

Lemmy. [Who has been moving towards them slowly] 
Lemme sy a word to 'em. 

All stare at hhn. Lemmy approaches the win- 
dowy followed by Little Aida. Poulder 
re-enters toith the three other footmen. 
[At the window] Cheerio ! Cookies ! 

[The silence of surprise falls on the crowd. 
I'm one of yer. Gas an' water I am. Got more 
grievances an' out of employment than any of yer. I 
want to see their blood flow, syme as you. 

Press. [Writing] "Born orator — ready cockney wit 
— saves situation." 

Lemmy. Wot I sy is: Dahn wiv the country, dahn 
wiv everyfing. Begin agyne from the foundytions. 
[Nodding his head back at the room] But we've got to 
keep one or two o' these 'ere under glawss, to show 
our future generytions. An' this one is 'armless. His 
pipes is sahnd, 'is 'eart is good; 'is 'ead is not strong. 
'Is 'ouse will myke a charmin' palace o' varieties where 
our children can come an' see 'ow they did it in the 
good old dyes. Yer never see sich waxworks as 'is 
butler and 'is four conscientious khaki footmen. Why 
— wot d'yer think 'e 'as 'em for — fear they might be 
out-o'-works like you an' me. Nao ! Keep this one; 
'e's a Flower. 'Arf a mo' ! I'll show yer my Muwer. 
Come 'ere, old lydy; and bring yer trahsers. [Mrs. 
Lemmy comes forward to the window] Tell abaht yer 
speech to the meetin'. 

Mrs. Lemmy. [Bridling] Oh dear ! Well, I cam' in 
with me trousers, an' they putt me up on the pedestory 



86 THE FOUNDATIONS act hi 

at once, so I tole 'em. [Holding up the trousers] "I putt 
in the button'oles, I stretches the flies; I lines the 
crutch; I putt on this bindin', I presses the seams — 
Tuppence three farthin's a pair.'* 

[A groan from the crowd. 

Lemmy. [Showing her off] Seventy-seven! Wot's 
'er income.'^ Twelve bob a week; seven from the Gov- 
er'ment, an' five from the sweat of 'er brow. Look at 
*er ! 'Yn't she a tight old dear to keep it goin' ! No 
workus for 'er, nao fear ! The gry ve rather ! 

Murmurs from the crowds at whom Mrs. Lemmy 
is blandly smiling. 
You cawn't git below 'er — impossible! She's the 
foundytions of the country — an' rocky 'yn't the word 
for 'em. Worked 'ard all 'er life, brought up a family 
and buried 'em on it. Twelve bob a week, an' seven 
when 'er fingers goes, which is very near. Well, naow, 
this torf 'ere comes to me an' says: "I'd like to do 
somefin' for yer muwer. 'Ow's ten bob a week?" 'e 
says. Naobody arst 'im — quite on 'is own. That's 
the sort 'e is. [Sinking his voice confidentially] Sorft. 
You bring yer muwers 'ere, 'e'll do the syme for them. 
I giv yer the 'int. 

Voice. [From the crowd] What's 'is nyme ? 

Lemmy. They calls 'im Bill. 

Voice. Bill what ? 

L. Anne. Dromondy. 

Lady W. Anne! 

Lemmy. Dromedary 'is nyme is. 



ACT III THE FOUNDATIONS 87 

Voice. [From the crowd] Three cheers for Bill Drom- 
edary. 

Lemmy. I sy, there's veal an' 'am, an' pork wine at 
the back for them as wants it; I 'card the word passed. 
An' look 'ere, if yer want a flag for the revolution, tyke 
muvver's trahsers an' tie 'em to the corfin. Yer 
cawn't 'ave no more inspirin' banner. Ketch! [He 
throws the trousers out] Give Bill a double-barrel fust, 
to show there's no ill-feelin'. 'Ip, 'ip! 

The crowd cheers^ then slowly passes away, 
singing its hoarse version of the Marseillaise, 
till all that is heard is a faint murmuring 
and a distant barrel-organ playing the same 
tune. 

Press. [Writing] "And far up in the clear summer 
air the larks were singing." 

Lord W. [Passing his hand over his hair, and blink- 
ing his eyes] James! Ready? 

James. Me Lord ! 

L. Anne. Daddy! 

Lady W. [Taking his arm] Bill ! It's all right, old 
man — all right ! 

Lord W. [Blinking] Those infernal larks ! Thought 
we were on the Somme again ! Ah ! Mr. Lemmy, 
[Still rather dreamy] no end obliged to you; you're so 
decent. Now, why did you want to blow us up before 
dinner ? 

Lemmy. Blow yer up? [Passing his hand over his 
hair in travesty] "Is it a dream? Then wykin* would 
be pyne." 



88 THE FOUNDATIONS act hi 

Mrs. Lemmy. Bo-ob ! Not so saucy, my boy ! 

Lemmy. Blow yer up ? Wot abaht it ? 

Lady W. [Indicating the bomb] This, Mr. Lemmy! 
Lemmy looks at it, and his eyes roll and goggle. 

Lord W. Come, all's forgiven ! But why did you ? 

Lemmy. Orl right! I'm goin' to tyke it awy; it'd 
a-been a bit ork'ard for me. I'll want it to-morrer. 

Lord W. What! To leave somewhere else? 

Lemmy. Yus, of course ! 

Lord W. No, no; dash it ! Tell us— what's it filled 
with? 

Lemmy. Filled wiv ? Nuffin'. Wot did yer expect ? 
Toof-pahder ? It's got a bit o' my lead soldered on to 
it. That's why it's 'eavy ! 

Lord W. But what is it? 

Lemmy. Wot is it ? [His eyes are fearfully fixed on 
Lady William] I fought everybody knew 'em. 

Lady W. Mr. Lemmy, you must clear this up, 
please. 

Lemmy. [To Lord William, with his eyes still fixed on 
Lady William — mysteriously] Wiv lydies present? 
*Adn't I better tell the Press? 

Lord W. All right; tell someone — ^anyone! 

Lemmy goes down to The Press, who is read- 
ing over his last note. Everyone watches and 
listens with the utmost discretion, while he 
whispers into the ear of The Press, who 
shakes his head violently. 

Press. No, no; it's too horrible. It destroys my 
whole 



ACT III THE FOUNDATIONS 89 

Lemmy. Well, I tell yer it is. 

[Whispers again violently. 
Press. No, no; I can't have it. All my article ! All 
my article ! It can't be — no ! 

Lemmy. I never see sich an obstinate thick-head ! 
Yer 'yn't worvy of yer tryde. 

He whispers still more violently and makes 

cabalistic signs. 
Lady William lifts the bomb from the cooler 
into the sight of all. Lord William, seeing it 
for the first time in full light, bends double in 
silent laughter, and whispers to his wife. 
Lady William drops the bomb and gives way 
too. Hearing the sound, Lemmy turns, and 
his goggling eyes pass them all in review. 
Lord and Lady William in fits of laughter. 
Little Anne stamping her feet, for Miss 
Stokes, red, but composed, has her hands 
placed firmly over her pupil's eyes and ears ; 
Little Aida smiling brilliantly, Mrs. 
Lemmy blandly in sympathy, neither know- 
ing why ; the Four Footmen in a row, 
STTwihering little explosions. Poulder, ex- 
tremely grave and red. The Press perfectly 
haggard, gnawing at his nails. 
Lemmy. [Turning to The Press] Blimy ! It amooses 
*em, all but the genteel ones. Cheer oh ! Press ! Yer 
can always myke somefin' out o' nuffin' ? It's not the 
fust thing as 'as existed in yer imaginytion only. 
Press. No, d— — it; I'll keep it a bomb ! 



90 THE FOUNDATIONS act hi 

Lemmy. [Soothingly] Ah ! Keep the sensytion. Wot' s 
the troof compared wiv that? Come on, Muvver! 
Come on, Little Aida! Time we was goin' dahn to 
'Earf! 

He goes up to the table^ and still skidding a little 
at Lady William, takes the late bomb from 
the cooler, placing it under his arm. 
Mrs. Lemmy. Gude naight, sir; gude naight, ma'am; 
thank yu for my cup o' tea, an' all yure kindness. 

She shakes hands with Lord and Lady Wil- 
liam, drops the curtsey of her youth before 
Mr. Poulder, and goes out followed by 
Little Aida, who is looking back at Little 
Anne. 
Lemmy. [Turning suddenly] Aoh ! An' jist one fing ! 
Next time yer build an 'ouse, daon't forget — it's the 
foundytions as bears the wyte. 

With a wink that gives way to a last fascinated 

look at Lady William, he passes out. All 

gaze after them, except The Press, who is 

tragically consulting his spiflicated notes. 

L. Anne. [Breaking away from Miss Stokes and 

rushing forward] Oh ! Mum ! what was it ? 

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